


Tread Softly

by ellejaymac



Series: Boldwood-King [1]
Category: Far from the Madding Crowd (2015)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Insecurity, Pining, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:08:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 45,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25165951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellejaymac/pseuds/ellejaymac
Summary: Prequel to "You Make Me Bold".William Boldwood has, with limited grace, accepted Bathsheba's rejection. He has resigned himself to the fact that he'll likely not love again, but the matter of his reputation weighs on him and he knows he ought to marry soon or die a bachelor. Katherine King wants to show him that he need not value himself so cheaply.
Relationships: William Boldwood/Original Female Character
Series: Boldwood-King [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823110
Comments: 71
Kudos: 40





	1. The Christmas Eve Party

It was Christmas eve. It had snowed earlier, and a thin dusting lay like icing sugar over the woods and fields of Weatherbury. The stars twinkled through the frosty night and the moon shone brightly over the countryside, illuminating the shapes of the hillsides and the flocks and herds that grazed on them. All lay still and silent, waiting for another year to pass away. The solitary sign of vitality in the landscape came from a handsome manor house that stood overlooking well-kept gardens and a small, frozen lake

The smell of mulled wine and the merry sounds of music, conversation, and laughter drifted through the halls of William Boldwood’s house. There was a party in full swing, and the guests were dancing gaily with one another, brandishing mistletoe over unsuspecting young couples, and eating and drinking liberally (as one does when the bill is paid from someone else’s purse). By the end of the evening, more than one of the esteemed folk of Weatherbury would be stumbling on their road home, and swearing blind that it was the fault of the frosty evening. The host, however, was finding the festive spirit in rather short supply. 

Mr. Boldwood stood in the corner of the hall, watching the guests enjoy his hospitality. He didn’t grudge the expense of the party - even if he had spent ten times the sum it would have been pocket change for him - but he resented the cause of it. Said cause was currently dancing in the arms of her new fiance and laughing heartily at something witty the shepherd had said. Boldwood had accepted her final refusal of his offer, though he had thought for a while that the pain of it would break him. For a week he ate precious little and barely slept, choosing instead to wander across the countryside in a dejected malaise. He had caught a chill on one of these wanderings that had left him confined to his bedchamber for another week, during which Cavendish - his valet of nearly twenty years - had all but nursed him back to health. By the time he was back on his feet, his melancholy had receded enough that he resolved to put all thought of Bathsheba aside, and show to the whole society that he was not a man to nurse a heartbreak. In order to best display his gracious nature, he had thrown this party and invited Oak and Bathsheba warmly and personally, along with every resident of the area, regardless of station. He would not allow people to whisper about him again as they had after the first...disappointment. 

Cavendish had enthusiastically supported the idea, and Boldwood knew the man hoped that he would take every advantage of the opportunity to become acquainted with more of the single ladies in the region, all the better to forget Bathsheba. Though Boldwood little relished the thought, he acknowledged that Cavendish was right to recommend it. He was getting no younger, and unless he wanted to die a childless, lonely bachelor with no one on whom to bestow the wealth he had worked so hard for, he had better settle on some poor woman and have done with it.

Now, as he stood stoically sipping his brandy in the corner of the hall, he felt that he had once again acted rashly and against his better judgement. His heart ached to see how Bathsheba smiled on his friend - _his friend_ \- Mr Oak. He knew that he was not, as he had intended, putting his best self forward publicly, by standing in a corner like some sulking child. But what else could he do? He felt far too embarrassed by the past year to ask any other woman to dance with him and besides, who would he even ask? He was barely acquainted with any of the ladies beyond Bathsheba and her maid Liddy. No, all in all, this whole affair had been ill-conceived, and Mr. Boldwood longed for the hour when the whole rotten lot would bundle on their coats and leave him to his peace. 

The dance continued and Mr Boldwood noticed with dismay that Bathsheba and Gabriel were twirling nearer and nearer to where he stood. He caught her eye on one of the turns and noticed that she glanced quickly away. That was the final straw, and he set down his glass on the nearest table and made promptly for the door and some fresh air. In his haste and distraction, he bumped shoulders with a lad who worked on his farm. The young man was carrying a glass of mulled wine, which spilled onto Boldwood’s brocade waistcoat. 

“For heaven’s sake!” Boldwood hissed, inspecting his waistcoat to assess the degree of the damage.

“Beg your pardon sir, beg your pardon!” The young man was slurring a little and had clearly had a glass or two too many, but he was looking fearfully at Mr Boldwood as though he thought he might hit him. Boldwood took a deep breath and forced a gentler expression onto his face.

“An accident, Jack. Don’t concern yourself, I have other waistcoats.”

With that he hurried away from the lad and made his way out to the terrace.

The cold night air hit him bodily as he stepped out into the dark. His breath fogged around him and a little wisp of steam rose from the mulled wine that stained his waistcoat. He tutted to himself as he unbuttoned it to check that his shirt at least had escaped Jack’s clumsiness. Thankfully it had. He briefly rejoiced that the waistcoat was so thick and well-made as to not soak through, but then he remembered that it was still probably ruined. He rooted in his pockets for a handkerchief that he could use to blot out the worst of the wine - perhaps if he acted quickly enough his housekeeper, Mrs Downing, might yet salvage the garment. However his search was fruitless, and in his frustration he swore into the night.

“Who’s that cursing like a sailor?” came a woman’s voice from just below the terrace. Footsteps ascended the stone steps and a young woman appeared who Boldwood recognised as one of the guests of the party. He couldn’t quite place who she was on the spot. When she saw him, she stopped.

“Mr Boldwood. Forgive me, I didn’t recognise your voice.” she said, evidently embarrassed.

As she spoke, he managed to place her. She was the daughter of Mr King, a man who ran a modest farm a mile or so north of Weatherbury. Try as he might, he couldn’t recall her christian name.

“My apologies, Miss King.” he answered. “That was very impolite of me. I confess I thought myself alone and unheard.”

“Not at all sir.” she answered. “It is your terrace, after all. You ought to be allowed to curse up a storm if you so wish.” Boldwood thought he detected a hint of mirth in her voice.

“Yes, well…” was all the reply he could think to make. 

They stood there awkwardly for a moment, before Miss King cleared her throat and said “Mr Boldwood, sir….your waistcoat…” It was then that Boldwood remembered he had been talking to her with his waistcoat hanging open. He hastened to refasten it.

“Ah, forgive me. I was inspecting my shirt for wine stains.” he said.

“Oh dear, one glass too many? Sir, the host of a party really ought to leave some wine for his guests.” She teased.

“Certainly not!” he answered, amused. “The doing of one of my farm lads I’m afraid. This was my favourite waistcoat too…”

Miss King approached nearer. “May I inspect the damage? Perhaps it may yet be saved.” she asked.

Boldwood was going to refuse, but the possibility of saving his favourite waistcoat was too tempting, and to his surprise he found himself assenting. Miss King crouched down so that her eyes were level with the wine-stain. 

“Ah sir, the stain is not so large as to be beyond help. It needs to be blotted right away. Do you have a handkerchief?” she asked.

“ I was sure I did, but I’m afraid I can’t find it. Hence the swearing.”

“Ah, no matter!” she replied, producing a handkerchief seemingly from thin air. To Mr Boldwood’s surprise she took hold of the hem of his waistcoat and immediately began to blot the stain herself. 

“Where did that come from?” he asked, incredulous.

“From my pocket.” she answered simply.

“It’s alright, I can blot it myself.” he said quickly, stopping her hand and taking the handkerchief from it. Miss King straightened back up and retreated

“Did you say from your pocket? You’re only wearing a gown?” he asked, continuing to dry the stain.

“I had pockets sewn into the skirt.” Miss King answered, putting her hands in the pockets and cocking her hip to show them off. 

“How practical.” Boldwood answered dryly. “Thank you.” he said, passing the now soiled handkerchief back.

“You’re welcome, sir. You ought to treat the stain with vinegar and soda as soon as possible, before it sets.” 

“I’ll pass it on to Mrs Downing right away. Thank you for your help.”

They again stood in silence a moment. Finally Boldwood cleared his throat and said:“Miss King you must be freezing. Please, let us return inside and I will get you a mug of mulled wine to warm you up.” 

Miss King nodded and they walked inside together. Boldwood bade her wait by the fire and immediately fetched a mug of mulled wine for her, which she accepted with a grateful smile. Her cheeks were flushed and Boldwood realised that she must have been terribly cold outside. Mind you, his own cheeks were feeling rather warm as well.

“I ought to go change my waistcoat and get this one to Mrs Downing. Thank you again for your assistance, Miss King.” he said. She inclined her head to him with a small smile, and he retreated upstairs.

When he returned downstairs several minutes later, his stained brocade waistcoat swapped for a midnight blue silk one, Cavendish waylaid him at the foot of the stairs. 

“Sir, forgive me but, may I have a moment of your time?”

“Of course Cavendish.” Boldwood walked with his valet to a quiet corner of the foyer, behind the towering christmas tree.

“Sir, I hope you’ll forgive the liberty, but I thought you ought to know that...I believe people have noticed your subdued spirits this evening. I heard several of the young ladies complaining that the host had not danced with a soul all night, and your absence this last while has been noted.”

Boldwood flushed with embarrassment and indignation.

“Oh it has, has it?” he sighed. “Of course it has.”

“It has sir. I believe your intention with this party was to divert speculation and make a favourable impression on your neighbours? I don’t mean to press a painful matter, but perhaps you ought to dance with a few of the ladies? The party is not long from finishing, and it would help to still wagging tongues.”

Boldwood knew the man was right, though it pained him to admit it.

“Yes I suppose so, Cavendish. Thank you for your advice.”

Cavendish smiled and nodded to him, before returning to his job overseeing the running of the party.

Boldwood returned reluctantly to the hall where the dance was still in full swing. He immediately spotted Miss King standing apart from the other ladies, inspecting a fine landscape painting that hung on the wall. Seizing on the opportunity to talk to someone without being subjected to the scrutiny of a whole group of ladies, he made a beeline for her.

“Miss King.” he greeted her.

“Mr Boldwood. Another lovely waistcoat, though the other one suited you better.”

He smiled, gratified at her compliment, but found he had little else to say in reply.

“This is a very fine painting, sir. What is the view?”

“It’s Devonshire. My mother’s county. I had it painted as a birthday gift for her when I was younger, and when she passed four years ago I brought it here to remember her.”

“Indeed?” Miss King replied, but it seemed as though she too was struggling to continue their conversation, since she did not say anything else or look at him, instead looking down at her feet and putting a hand into her pocket. Boldwood’s heart sank. Another woman who found his company dull. Wonderful. He was working out how best to extract himself from the situation, cursing Cavendish’s bloody advice, when the current dance ended, the guests applauded, and the players struck up another waltz.

Miss King turned to him abruptly. “Forgive my boldness sir, but would you like to dance?” she asked, holding out a hand to him.

Boldwood blinked, taken very aback at the proposal. How improper that a woman should ask a man to dance, leaving aside the question of their difference in age and station! Yet here she was, saving him from risking the rejection. He found himself gratefully accepting, and she led him by the hand to the dancefloor. 

It had been a while since Boldwood had danced with anyone, but he was pleasantly surprised to find that he hadn’t quite forgotten how. Miss King was an excellent partner, seeming to feel the pulse of the music in her bones, and they moved easily around the floor. They made precious little conversation, aside from compliments on the other’s ability. Once Boldwood got over his initial embarrassment at being asked to dance, like some blushing maiden, he managed to inspect Miss King’s face for the first time in the light. 

She had large, brown eyes of a shade that almost perfectly matched her hair, and high cheekbones that the warmth, the wine and the dancing had flushed. Her jaw was a little strong to be considered a beauty in the traditional sense, but it was balanced out by her full lips and strong white teeth behind them. The overall effect was one of general handsomeness, and the way that she smiled frequently and sincerely increased her beauty a great deal. 

The song drew to an end and they released each other to applaud. “Thank you for the dance Mr Boldwood.” Miss King said, continuing their role reversal with a slightly teasing smile.

“Not at all, Miss King.” He answered, returning her smile though a little stiffly. “Perhaps for the next song I could ask you to dance?”

“Ah sir, better not.” she answered, glancing at her feet. “I wouldn’t like to monopolise the host, there are many girls here eagerly awaiting their turn.”

“Oh.” he replied, rather crestfallen and embarrassed. “Oh yes, of course. Forgive me.” He stood awkwardly before her for a moment, before bowing and murmuring “Miss King.” They parted ways, he to perform his reluctant duty of dancing with more of his guests, she to seek out her friends and another glass of wine.


	2. Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine King has been thinking over Christmas eve a lot these past two weeks. She finally gets another opportunity to talk to Mr Boldwood.

Nearly two weeks after Mr Boldwood’s christmas eve party, Katherine King hurried down the lane towards Weatherbury. The church bells were ringing cheerfully across the village, summoning people to the Eucharist service, and Katherine was late. 

She had awoken in plenty time that morning but, as she had most days since Christmas, Katherine lost a lot of her morning to daydreaming. She had spent a long time brushing her hair until it shone like varnished mahogany, thinking all the while about Christmas Eve. Try as she might, Katherine had not been able to shake her meeting with Mr Boldwood from her mind. 

She had known him to see of course before that night - the local area was small and everyone knew each other - but that night had been the first time they had spoken beyond brief greetings or sharing the peace at church. Katherine had always held him in esteem; the whole of Weatherbury did. She also, like the whole of Weatherbury, knew a degree of what had transpired between Mr. Boldwood and Mrs Troy. Folks had always said that Mr Boldwood was a serious and reserved man, not given to frequent or open displays of emotion; neither joy nor sadness. That was certainly true, she thought, as she recalled his affect during the party. 

And yet, she had made him laugh with her (entirely inappropriate) teasing about his supposed drunkenness, his eyes crinkling charmingly at the corners. He had danced with her ahead of any girl at the party - though she had had to ask him, and she was certain that he had only danced at all at the chiding of his valet, whom she had spotted pulling the man aside for a talk moments before. And although they shared precious little conversation while they danced, Katherine remembered vividly those few minutes, and the crestfallen look on Mr Boldwood’s face when she had declined to dance a second song with him. She had not wanted to set tongues wagging, certain - even from the little she knew about him - that Mr Boldwood would have hated to be the subject of gossip.

The sound of the grandfather clock in the parlour chiming a quarter to eleven pulled Katherine out of her thoughts, and she realised then that she was running late. The walk was exactly a mile from the Kings’ farm to the church of St. John the Divine in Weatherbury. If she left immediately and walked swiftly she might only be five minutes late. She threw on her coat and rushed out of the house and down the lane.

~

Katherine hurried through the churchyard at five-past-eleven, as the last notes of the processional hymn (Love Divine, All Loves Excelling) died away. As she reached the door she heard the vicar declare “Let us pray.” and saw every head in the building bow. She hesitated in the doorway for a moment, unwilling to cause a disturbance by shuffling past people into a row, but then she spotted a pew with a free seat by the aisle three rows from the back. She slipped as quietly as she could into the seat bowing her head and clasping her hands with everyone else.

Katherine had never been very good at keeping her eyes shut during prayers, her philosophy being that anyone who caught her was also not closing their eyes and therefore couldn’t chastise her. She inspected her skirt and shoes, checking that they hadn’t gotten dirty on the journey. She noticed the pair of shoes next to her in the pew were immaculately clean and very well-made. They belonged to a man in a well-kept dark suit. Katherine chanced a glance to her left to see who the man was, and her breath caught as she realised that she had sat next to Mr Boldwood. 

Oh heavens, what would he think of her choosing to sit beside him like this? There was no one else in the pew, the church being a little less full than usual on account of it being Epiphany, and people having gone to visit friends and relatives in other parts of the country. She wondered whether perhaps he had been saving the space for someone, in which case perhaps she ought to move? Oh, but she didn’t want him to think she was uncomfortable to sit with him, and she would have to disturb another row to reach a free seat. As she was fretting over her dilemma, the prayers drew to a close and the congregation sat up straight again. She caught Mr Boldwood’s eye as they straightened up, and he smiled politely and inclined his head to her, but immediately returned his gaze to the vicar who was giving the first reading. Katherine was a little disappointed he hadn’t greeted her more warmly but, she conceded, he could hardly start a conversation in the middle of the service.

Katherine directed her gaze with some effort to the vicar at the pulpit, but she remained keenly aware of Mr Boldwood’s proximity, their thighs only a few inches apart on the old oak pew. She tried to concentrate on the Old Testament reading - the story of Ruth and Boaz - but found her attention frequently wandering to thoughts that were not entirely saint-like. She couldn’t help but draw parallels between the caring, wealthy, farmer in the story and the one sitting next to her, and of course these parallels in the story led to their own conclusions.

The reading drew to a close and the congregation stood for the gospel reading, reciting the responses as they did every Sunday. Katherine’s shoulder brushed Mr Boldwood’s as they stood, and as a result she utterly failed to hear a word that was read and tripped over her responses. She blushed, knowing that he could hear her stumbling over her words, but if he noticed he gave no sign of it, thankfully. The reading finished and the organ struck up the introduction to the next hymn. 

Katherine looked around her for a hymn book but the one in her place had evidently been moved, and she found herself without one. However, she didn’t need to worry long, as Boldwood held his own hymn book across (which had been open at the correct page since the last one had finished) so that they could share. The first verse began, and Katherine was very impressed with Mr Boldwood’s singing ability. He had a low, bass-baritone voice with a rich, deep timbre, and enunciated each word clearly. Katherine had had singing lessons for a little while in her teens, and she found herself wondering whether he had as well, or was he simply naturally gifted? In the second verse, he struck up a harmony, reading the bass part from the hymn book. Katherine was impressed but, not to be outdone, she immediately took up the alto part. She couldn’t resist a glance up at his face and saw his mouth twitch into a smile as their eyes met.

For all four verses of the hymn they sang boldly, their voices mingling harmoniously with the rest of the congregation, the choir and the organ. When the final verse ended and they sat back down, Boldwood placed the hymn book back on the pew, between himself and her.

Katherine’s thoughts wandered a great deal during the rest of the service. She found it impossible to keep her eyes entirely off him in the sermon, and settled for bowing her head in an appearance of reverence that actually made it easier to glance across at him without detection. However, she at no point caught him looking back at her, to her disappointment. Not that that put much of a damper on her fancies.

When they rose once more to share the peace with one another during Communion, Katherine turned nervously to shake his hand. 

“Peace be with you Mr. Boldwood.” she offered, smiling warmly at him and holding out her hand.

“And also with you, Miss King.” he returned the required response, and shook her hand with another of his stiff, formal smiles. They were silent for a beat, before he turned away to offer the sign of the peace to the family in the pew in front, and Katherine did the same with the group behind, though she was highly disappointed they had not had more conversation. 

When, a moment later, they went forward to receive communion, she found herself kneeling at the communion rail beside him, and her treacherous mind conjured up an image of kneeling side by side with him in this same church, before this same altar, but under rather different circumstances. She blushed furiously at the thought and scolded herself internally for her lack of propriety. Honestly, that she should be thinking such things about a man she barely knew, who was well above her socially! 

She felt a forceful shame then at how she was allowing her imagination to run away with her and, with a great effort of will, returned her attention to the service. She managed passably well for the rest of the service to focus on the vicar, and did not steal a single glance at Mr Boldwood during the final hymn. The vicar gave the final benediction, and the congregation resumed their seats as the organist began to play the voluntary, beginning to break into conversation now that the service was technically over. Katherine didn’t know whether she ought to try and converse with Mr Boldwood, but the decision was quickly removed from her hands.

“Good morning Miss King. How are you?”

“Very well thank you Mr Boldwood, and you?”

“I’m well, thank you. Are your family not with you today?” he asked.

“They’ve gone to visit my grandmother in Somerset for the new year.”

“You didn’t go with them?”

“Someone has to keep an eye on the farm.” She replied. “As I’m sure you know sir, the farm doesn’t stop simply because it’s Christmas.”

“Of course, of course.” They both rose to join the stream of people shuffling out of the church.

“And did you have a peaceful Christmas season?” he asked as they emerged into a bright, crisp, winter’s day. The air was quite still but there was no frost, the cold weather that had frozen the region on christmas eve having given way to a milder spell. The sun shone weakly on the parishioners of weatherbury as they wound their way homewards.

“Oh yes, it was fine, though I must say I’m glad to be returning to normal. And you?”

“Yes, my Christmas was pleasantly peaceful.” he answered. They lapsed briefly into silence, walking side by side through the churchyard.

After a moment, Katherine asked: “Was Mrs Downing able to rescue the waistcoat?”

“Hmmm? Oh, yes thank you. Good as new, thanks to your quick intervention.” he smiled at her, more warmth in his expression now that they were out of the church.

“I’m very glad to hear it! It would have been a shame indeed to have to find a new favourite garment.” He chuckled at this and agreed.

Katherine found herself struggling to think of anything else of interest to say to him, but was afforded some time by the tricky operation of getting through the kissing gate and onto the lane. They both turned up the lane towards the North, unlike most of the parish who headed back down the lane towards the village.

“You are a very fine singer, Miss King.” he said as they walked up the lane.

“Very kind of you, sir” she replied, her cheeks colouring as she smiled, gratified and a little embarrassed.

“Have you studied singing?”

“A little, I had a governess for a while in my teens who taught me to read music and carry a tune. And you Mr. Boldwood?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You have a wonderful voice!”

Mr Boldwood looked at the ground as he walked, obviously embarrassed. He cleared his throat before answering “Well, I was a choirboy at Exeter in my youth. Once my cherubic boy’s voice broke though, I confess I never quite got the hang of the new man’s voice.” 

“Having heard you this morning sir I must firmly disagree. You ought to join the parish choir!”

He blushed in earnest now as she pressed the compliment. “Ah, I doubt the parish choir would find much use for me…” They drew equal with the junction in the lane that led to Mr Boldwood’s house and he made a vague gesture to indicate he was turning up it. He paused for a moment before saying: “Good day Miss King. Do pass on my regards to your father.” he inclined his head to her and turned up the path without waiting for her to reply. 

Katherine watched him go until he had disappeared around the bend. She cursed her fanciful mind that had run away with her during the service. She ought to mind herself - Mr Boldwood was a wealthy, handsome gentleman who no doubt had a lot of far worthier women after him. There was no sense in her getting ideas. And while he was polite to her, and certainly not cold, she sensed little more than neighbourly politeness in his manner with her. No, best to try and put her thoughts about him out of her head. She adjusted her hat to better shield her eyes from the low, winter sun and continued on her way home.

~~

Mr. Boldwood climbed the path to his house, thinking about the service that morning. It had pained him to see Gabriel and Bathsheba arrive at church hand in hand, and he was very glad they had sat far in front of him. He had put a great deal of effort into not watching them, but hadn’t quite been able to stop himself stealing a few furtive glances during the sermon. His stomach had tightened painfully when Bathsheba laid her head on the shepherd’s shoulder, but now as he thought back to the moment, he realised that what he had felt was more embarrassment about how poorly he had conducted himself over the past year than true jealousy. Of course, that didn’t make the feeling any easier to shake, but he was somewhat comforted to recognise his actual affection for Bathsheba herself beginning to fade.

He had been rather taken aback when Miss King had sat beside him, but it was evident that she had simply slipped into the first free pew she could find. However, he had no objections to her joining him. She was a good pew-mate - not a fidgeter, prayer-book-rifler, or a bad singer. He had enjoyed talking to her after the service as well, finding her conversation engaging. He had, however, been most embarrassed by her compliment of his singing. He knew he was a good singer, but was ill-practised at accepting compliments given so specifically or sincerely. He worried he had handled it rather gracelessly. Nonetheless, he was flattered, and hummed tunefully to himself as he climbed the path back to the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a pretty self-indulgent chapter to be honest but here we are.


	3. Fraternal Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine makes a visit to Casterbridge market.
> 
> Mr Boldwood has guests.

The following Tuesday, the weather was fine and clear, so Katherine King decided to walk to Casterbridge market. She set out across the country in fine spirits, singing to herself as she walked, her breath condensing in the cold winter air. She had failed utterly at her task of putting aside all thoughts of Mr Boldwood, having in fact spent the rest of Sunday and most of Monday rebounding wildly between savouring her memories of the service and their subsequent conversation, and mortification at how freely she had let her imagination run. She was surprised, and a little frightened, by the strength of feeling that had developed for him so quickly. Katherine King was not usually given to romantic notions about men, love or marriage; yet here she was struggling to maintain her propriety and composure around a man in whose company she had spent, at a generous estimate, half an hour altogether?

And she could hardly have chosen a less suitable man on whom to get designs. Boldwood was far wealthier than her own family, better connected, more ‘civilised’. He was also fourteen years older than Katherine. All of that might perhaps have been overcome, but the true fly in the ointment of any potential reciprocation was in Boldwood’s nature. He was reserved, some might even say cold. It had long been known (to the despair of many an aspirational woman) that he had had no interest in marriage. That pattern had seemed ready to break with the recent misunderstanding, and subsequent disappointment, with Mrs. Bathsheba Troy; but it had come to nothing in the end, and the general consensus in Weatherbury was that Boldwood would choose to remain a bachelor rather than risk a third disappointment. 

Still, there was a tiny part of her that hoped that maybe, the romantic side of him that had been awakened by Mrs Troy might yet be put to some use. She had replayed their three short conversations in her mind over and over, and had eventually persuaded herself that there was at least a hint of genuine warmth beyond mere politeness in his manner when he spoke to her. She could make him laugh, and he had asked her to dance - that was something to be getting on with.

The walk to Casterbridge, being a distance of a little less than three miles, took the best part of an hour. Katherine arrived at the market as the church bell tolled midday, and her first thought was to buy herself an apple to refresh her after her walk. The market was quiet, it being January, but that was all the better for Katherine as it meant she could get some conversation out of the sellers on the stalls. They were the main attraction of the market for the young woman, who loved nothing so much as to find out about other people, and hear their stories. The young man on the grocer’s cart had in fact been an employee of Katherine’s father a couple of years previously, and she recalled that he had nursed a little fondness for her for a while, but the feeling had not been mutual so of course nothing had come of it. She saw with some happiness that he now wore a wedding ring, and they had a pleasant chat about mutual acquaintances, his new wife, and how the farm was getting along.

At the next stall, Katherine chatted to the woman selling pottery. They too were acquainted, though a bit more loosely than Katherine and the grocer, and had a nice chat about their respective festive seasons. Katherine bought a rather charming, rustic milk jug and bade the woman a good day.

Moving on, Katherine thought about buying herself some new threads for her sewing project. She found the stall where a woman was selling fabrics, wool, and threads, and purchased some passably fine spools of green and gold thread, tucking them into the new jug for safe keeping. Suddenly, her attention was pricked when from the next stall she heard a familiar voice.

“Do you have this one in another colour?”

She turned and saw him talking with the merchant.

“Mr Boldwood! Good afternoon.” the greeting had slipped out before Katherine had had time to question it, and she regretted it for a split-second until he turned around and smiled warmly at her. 

“Miss King, good afternoon. How are you?”

“Very well thank you sir.” She answered, feeling both elated and terribly embarrassed. “And you?”

“I’m well, thank you. Are your family returned yet from Somerset?”

“They return on Thu-” Katherine was cut off by the merchant to whom Mr Boldwood had been speaking presenting him with a satin shawl in a deep red colour.

“Is this the sort of thing you’re looking for sir?”

As he turned his attention back to his shopping, Katherine’s heart sank. It was clearly a woman’s garment - that meant he was shopping _for_ someone.

“Ah yes, perfect. How much?” 

“Eight shillings and sixpence, sir.”

“Apologies - be with you in a moment, Miss King.” he said, with a sheepish smile, as he groped in his pockets for the money. He handed the coins over and the merchant began wrapping up the shawl for him. 

“I’m not sure that shade of red is quite your colour Mr Boldwood.” Katherine teased, hoping to extract some information about the intended recipient. He chuckled in reply.

“I quite agree. Thankfully it’s not for me, it’s for my sister.”

“Oh!” Katherine’s heart returned to her chest. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t ever have had a reason to meet Mary.” Katherine felt a slight pang, though she was fairly certain he had not meant a slight by it. Nonetheless, she didn’t enjoy the reminder that they inhabited quite different social circles. Mr Boldwood accepted the parcel with the new shawl from the seller, and the two of them set off around the market together.

“Is she an older sister or younger?” Katherine asked, aware that she was perhaps seeming too interested but unable to suppress her curiosity.

“Older, but only by a few minutes.”

“Oh, you’re a twin! You two must have been very close growing up?”

“We were, yes - still are in fact. Mary is the dearest friend I have.” he answered, smiling affectionately as he spoke of her. 

“That’s lovely! Is she married?”

“She is. My brother-in-law owns a textile mill in Bristol, so that is where they’re usually based, though Frederic travels on business frequently.”

“Oh. Does she find the separation hard?”

“Yes, I believe it is quite hard on Mary and the children. Though I must admit that, from a purely selfish perspective, I enjoy the frequent excuses to have my sister, niece and nephew come to stay.” he said, with a smile. He took out his pocket watch and checked the time. “Ah Miss King, I’m afraid I need to be getting back to Weatherbury soon. Mary, Miles and Emily are arriving tomorrow afternoon, and I still have a great deal of preparation to be getting on with.”

“Of course, sir. I won’t detain you any longer.”

“A pleasure to talk to you Miss King.” he said, sounding as though he meant it. He inclined his head and made to leave, only to turn back after a few steps. “Can I offer you a lift back? I drove myself here in the dog cart.”

Katherine’s heart leapt but she fought to master herself and not come across over-eager. “Oh, that’s very kind of you sir but I can walk, it’s not too far.”

“Nonsense! It’s nearly three miles and the weather is hardly fine! I wouldn’t be surprised if we see rain later, and besides, you needn’t carry that heavy jug all that way.”

“Well...I suppose…yes alright. Thank you Mr Boldwood.”

“Not at all! Wait here a few minutes and I’ll bring the cart round.” Katherine did as she was told, and presently Mr Boldwood was back, hopping with surprising agility from the cart to take Katherine’s jug from her and put it securely in the back. He insisted on helping her up onto the cart and they were off, Katherine working hard to conceal her joy from the gentleman who sat beside her.

~

The next day, Mary arrived in Weatherbury with nine year-old Miles and six year-old Emily in tow. Boldwood was waiting in the driveway as their coach pulled in, and before it had even drawn to a complete stop, the door burst open and the children came barrelling out. 

“Uncle William!” Emily cried, sprinting up to him. He laughed, picking her up and spinning her round, before planting a kiss on her cheek. She giggled and flung her arms around his neck. “I missed you uncle William!” 

“I missed you too Emmy! And you Miles!” He used his free arm to ruffle his nephew’s hair as the boy grinned up at him with a gap-toothed smile. His sister was climbing out of the coach behind them. “Mary!” he called. “Lord, it’s good to see you.”

“William!” Mary rushed to wrap him (and Emily, who was still clinging to his neck) in a tight hug. She released him and gave him an appraising look. “You look very well!”

William chuckled. “Thank you, so do you. How was the journey?” He asked, crouching to put Emily back on the ground. She reluctantly unwound her arms from around his neck but immediately grabbed his hand, determined not to let her uncle go _that_ easily.

“It was long, William. These two have been asking how much longer it would be since we left Bath!”

They both laughed and the four of them went inside. 

“Cavendish!” Boldwood called.

His valet appeared almost as if from thin air. “Yes sir?”

“Have my family’s bags brought in and sent to their rooms, and see to it that the horses are taken care of please.”

“Certainly, sir.”

“Thank you.” He took Mary, Miles and Emily to the dining room where a modest lunch had been provided. They dined in high spirits, all overjoyed to be reunited. Towards the end of the meal, Miles piped up: “Uncle William, can Emily and I play outside after lunch?”

“Of course Miles.” he answered. “In fact, why don’t we all go for a walk this afternoon? I’m sure it would do us all good to stretch our legs a little.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea William.” Mary said, smiling broadly. That being decided, the children were sent to change into their outdoor clothes, and the four of them reconvened in the foyer a quarter of an hour later, gloved, booted and bundled up in coats against the January air. 

The moment they set off, the adults walking arm-in-arm, the children bolted ahead, their laughter ringing clearly across the grounds as they played a game of chase. William laughed with them. “Do they ever slow down?”

Mary sighed. “If only. I think the only time those two are still is when they pass out at bedtime.” 

“They take after their mother then.” he teased.

Mary batted his arm affectionately. “Their uncle was like that once too, if I recall.”

“A long time ago, perhaps.” he replied. “These days a leisurely walk around the park is quite enough to wear me out.” 

“Indeed? It seemed to me as though you’d had quite a new lease of life the last few months…”

Boldwood flushed. “Yes well...I…that wasn’t quite...didn’t quite turn out how I had hoped...did it?”

“I’m sorry, William, I don’t mean to rake up painful feelings. We can talk about something else?”

“No, Mary, it’s alright.” He took a steadying breath, keeping his eyes carefully straight ahead and his voice as emotionless as he could. “Yes, it was certainly disappointing. But, I am a middle-aged man, I can handle it. Besides,” His voice shook ever so slightly, “it’s hardly the first time, is it?”

Mary squeezed his arm comfortingly. “William, it’s not like last time.”

“Isn’t it?” he asked quietly.

“It’s not. There were no broken promises, no betrayals. I understand that it can still hurt terribly, but at least you’re not the subject of gossip.”

“I feel as though I am.” he mumbled

Mary pulled him to a stop and looked him in the eyes, making sure her message got into his head. “William. If there is one thing on this earth of which a person should never feel ashamed, it is loving another person. You might regret some of your conduct - no, look at me.” She placed her hands gently on his upper arms. “You might wish you had behaved differently, but the past is the past and you cannot change it. Last time, you lost the best part of twenty years to shame. Don’t lose another twenty years now.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, and blinked away the threatening hotness of tears. “You’re right, Mary.” he said thickly “Of course you are. I don’t intend to hide away like last time. I’m not sure I could do it if I tried. I’m not the same man anymore.”

“I’m very glad to hear it.” She hooked her arm back into the crook of his elbow and they continued down the path. “You deserve to find a woman worthy of you, William.”

William barked a laugh. “I’m not sure any woman in the world has sinned so completely as to deserve to be saddled with me.”

Mary did not laugh, frowning at her brother instead. “That would be a lot funnier if I didn’t think you at least half believed it.”

William sighed. “I don’t believe it, don’t fret Mary.”

“Good. You’re a handsome man, kind and strong. I’m sure being so well off can’t hurt either.” She teased, nudging him with her elbow. “In no time you’ll have eager ladies queuing up the drive!” He flushed.

“Are you quite finished embarrassing me?”

“For now.” she chuckled. “But in all seriousness William, you have every chance at happiness. You’re forty, not seventy. There’s no reason why you couldn’t marry a nice woman - a _sensible_ woman - and perhaps have a family of your own. Children to pass the farm on to?”

“And rob Miles and Emily of their inheritance?” he teased. “Emmy would never forgive me if she didn’t inherit the duck pond and a flock of lambs at least.”

Mary laughed. “I’m sure she’d understand, especially if she got a baby cousin to play with out of it. I think she’d consider it a very fair trade indeed. Lord, you should hear how she pesters Frederic and I for a baby brother!”

“You ought to acquiesce. I’d certainly love another niece or nephew to spoil rotten!”

“Not you too! No thank you, those two are quite enough work on their own.” Mary laughed again. Their conversation turned to Mary’s plans for the children’s education, Frederic’s business and eventually recollections of childhood capers. As the winter sun was sinking low in the sky, they came walking through Weatherbury on their way back to William’s house. As they were ascending the hill past the church, they happened upon Miss King, who was just exiting the churchyard. 

“Miss King!” William called out in greeting. 

She turned around, surprise on her face before it broke into a polite smile. “Mr Boldwood! How do you do?”

“Very well indeed. Miss King, allow me to introduce my sister, Mary. Mary, this is Miss…” he paused, realising with surprise that he had no idea what Miss King’s first name was.

“Katherine.” she supplied

“...Katherine King.”

“Lovely to meet you Miss King.” Mary said, giving Miss King a broad, warm smile. 

“And you. Mr Boldwood has told me so much about you.”

William flushed deeply. Mary turned towards him, a knowing glint in her eye. “Indeed? You two are friends then?”

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly, all his ease from a moment ago forgotten. He could tell immediately what Mary was thinking (completely erroneously he might add). “We are neighbours, and I suppose we are...friendly...in a sense...acquaintances really…” he trailed off awkwardly. 

“Quite. Well Miss King, are you walking up the hill as well?”

“I am.”

“Well you must walk with us. Come, take my arm. It looks slippery on the way up.”

Miss King obediently took Mary’s arm and they set off. Boldwood found himself at a loss for anything to say, but Mary had no such struggles.

“Miss King, I’ve been telling William for years that he must introduce his family to his friends. Would you care to join us for lunch on Sunday after church?”

“Oh.” Miss King answered, as William found himself wishing that the path would suddenly open up and swallow him. “Oh well I- I suppose...I have no other plans. Yes, I’d love to, if it’s alright with you, Mr Boldwood?”

William opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say anything Mary cut him off. “Of course it is! I’ll take care of the arrangements with Cook. Why don’t you meet us outside the church after the service and we’ll all walk back together?”

“That sounds lovely.” Miss King replied, as they drew up to the fork in the road that would separate them. “My route home is this way.” She gestured to the right fork, unhooking her arm from Mary’s. “A pleasure to run into you both.” 

“The pleasure was all ours.” Mary said, and for her at least it seemed as though there was no hyperbole. 

“Yes, good day Miss King.” Boldwood said, inclining his head to her, before the three of them parted ways. As the brother and sister walked up the path towards the house, William muttered to Mary “You must think I was born yesterday.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Mary answered, with an affected innocence.

He scoffed. “If you say so. But, for future reference, I’m quite capable of making my own lunch invitations.”

Mary smiled indulgently at him. “I never said you weren’t, William.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait between chapters. I'm afraid I have no excuse beyond wrestling the plot a little down the line.
> 
> Many thanks to Ash for bouncing ideas around with me!


	4. Fox Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss King comes for lunch at Lower Farm.

_“Then fancies flee away,_

_He’ll fear not what men say._

_He’ll labour night and day_

_To be a Pilgrim”_

As the last strains of the closing hymn died away, creaky old Rev. Green got to his feet. “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord. And the blessing of God almighty - The Father, The Son, and the Holy Ghost - be with you, and remain with you always. Amen.”

The organist struck up the voluntary and the congregation resumed their seats. Boldwood’s thighs had barely touched the pew when a little hand was tugging excitedly on his sleeve. “Uncle William, Uncle William! Which one is she?” Emily was bouncing in her seat, trying to see over the heads of the congregants to guess which one belonged to their lunch guest. She had been practically vibrating with excitement since being told that morning that she ought to put on her nice frock because William’s friend, Miss King, would be coming to lunch.

“Ssh Emmy, be patient.” He smiled, patting her arm to get her to settle down. “We’ll meet her outside.” 

Emily, not one to be easily quieted, hopped straight to her feet. “Then why are we still sitting here?”

Boldwood explained patiently. “We have to wait for the minister and the choir to walk out first, then we can go.”

Emily sat down with poorly concealed disappointment, fidgeting with the frills of her frock until the required parties had gone past. She sprang immediately up when they had, and so at last her uncle got slowly to his feet. He was feeling rather nervous himself, though he supposed he had little reason too. Her brother and mother followed behind, and the four of them shuffled out of the crowded chapel and into the crisp, cold morning. They gathered just off the path in the churchyard, by a bare yew tree so as to not block the way home for other worshippers. 

Mary spotted their guest first, and called out brightly “Miss King!”, waving her over to their group. Miss King returned the wave and picked her way through the other groups.

“Good afternoon, Miss King! Lovely to see you again.”

“Likewise Mary! And you Mr Boldwood.” She smiled at him and inclined her head.

He returned the greeting with a nod. “Miss King, may I introduce my nephew, Miles.” he said, placing a hand on Miles’s shoulder. The boy held out his hand formally, for all the world like a little businessman in his Sunday clothes. Katherine smiled and took his hand, shaking it firmly, as though sealing an important business deal. He grinned at her, evidently pleased.

“And this is my niece, Emily.” Emmy had suddenly come over shy, and clung to her mother’s skirts. Katherine crouched down so she was at eye-level with the girl. 

“A pleasure to meet you Emily.” she said warmly, holding out a hand for the girl to shake just like her brother. Emily looked uncertainly at her mother and uncle, who smiled reassuringly, before slowly taking the proffered hand.

“How do you do, Miss King?” she asked in her little girl’s voice, and Mary laughed. Katherine did not laugh, but her smile broadened.

“Very well, thank you Miss Emily.” she answered. Emily beamed back at her and loosened her hold on her mother, as Katherine straightened back up.

“Well, shall we get going?” Mary said. “We wouldn’t want to be late back and incur the wrath of Cook.” she waggled her eyebrows comically and the children laughed.

“Of course.” William said, and they set off, Emmy immediately latching onto her uncle’s hand, swinging it joyfully as they walked. His heart swelled with love for her, as it always did when she showed him such casual, easy affection. If William was honest with himself, he wasn’t used to being liked. Respected, yes; but liked? Loved, even? No, he was out of practice at that. The only women who had ever truly loved him were his mother, his sister, and now his niece. The notion that Mary might be right, that maybe he could expand that list, seemed absurd to him.

They passed one-by-one through the kissing gate at the bottom of the churchyard and onto the lane, up which Miles immediately took off running. 

“Miles! Don’t go too far ahead. And for heaven’s sake don’t get mud on your Sunday clothes!”

“Yes Mama!” He called over his shoulder. He ran around a bend ahead of them and William chuckled, though Mary shook her head in exasperation. As they walked up the lane, breath frosting in the chilly winter morning, Mary and Miss King were chatting easily, Mary asking the younger woman about herself.

William only half-caught her answers. In truth, he was feeling rather awkward about the whole situation. He knew that his sister had had ulterior motives in making this invitation and, though he liked Miss King, he certainly didn’t know her well enough for the sort of matchmaking that Mary seemed determined to accomplish. They had barely been acquainted three weeks, after all. It also didn’t help that he knew the image Miss King had of him - of the stern, serious, reserved, landowner - was in all probability, quite different to the sort of man he was with his family. He had no idea how he was supposed to navigate that. He was pulled from his thoughts as they turned up the fork towards the house, by Emmy tugging on his hand.

“Uncle William, can you carry me the rest of the way?”

He hesitated a moment. “I...I think I had better not Emmy.”

Mary looked in surprise at him. He never normally passed up an opportunity to give his niece anything she asked for.

“Why not?” Emmy asked

“Well, we’re not far from the house, and the walk will do you good - help you to work up an appetite for lunch!” He squeezed her hand affectionately and smiled at her, but she pouted back at him, making his heart ache a little. It didn’t help that Mary gave him a reproving glance too. Well, what else could he have done? He could hardly have swung her around as he normally would have, it wouldn’t have been proper. He pretended not to notice Mary’s glance, instead turning his attention to Miss King.

“Miss King, your parents must be returned by now. How was their trip?”

“Yes, they returned on Thursday. They enjoyed it, though I suspect Papa was relieved to get back to the farm after the break. I think he believes himself better suited to the field than the dinner table.”

“No bad quality in a farmer.” Boldwood answered. He could relate to that, however much he cultivated the appearance of the gentleman. He too, much preferred to be outdoors in the natural world than at dinner parties. Or lunch parties for that matter.

“Indeed, I suppose not.” Katherine answered. “Though I do worry about how hard he works. I keep telling him he can afford to hire a bailiff and take a step back, but he’s determined to do as much by himself as he can.”

Mary cut in, “Yes, men can be so _stubborn_ sometimes.” she said, glancing at her brother. Boldwood scowled at her as Katherine agreed with a laugh.

They drew eventually up to the grand house, where Cavendish was waiting to show them inside and take their coats. “Right, Miles and Emily.” Mary said. “Off you go and wash your hands before lunch, since you’ve been playing.” The children looked irritated but trailed off upstairs to do as they were told. “I’ll be waiting here to check when you’ve finished!” she called after their retreating figures, rolling her eyes to Katherine and making her laugh. “You two go on, we’ll be in in a moment.”

Boldwood cleared his throat softly. “Right. Yes. I believe lunch will be in the family dining room today.” he said, leading Katherine to the left, through the hall where the Christmas Eve party had been held, which now contained a very long, luxurious dining table. He led her through a door at the end of the room, which opened into the smaller room, where the table was neatly laid, a splendid looking meal of roast beef with all the trimmings laid at each place.

Boldwood pulled out a chair for Katherine, for which she thanked him and sat down. He took the chair next to hers, at the head of the table. They sat in silence for a moment, before he began to pour some drinks - wine for the adults and water for the children.

“Thank you for the invitation Mr Boldwood, it’s very kind of you.” she said quickly as he poured, evidently also a little nervous. That made him feel slightly less alone in his suffering, at least.

“Not at all Miss King, a pleasure to have you.” he answered politely, placing the wine decanter back on the table and resuming his seat. “Miles and Emmy are very excited to have a guest for lunch.” He couldn’t resist a hint of a fond smile crossing his face as he spoke of them.

“Oh, they’re such darling children - and you’re so good with them!”

That took him by surprise. “I am?” he asked. Katherine was saved from having to answer by the noisy arrival of the aforementioned children and their mother.

“Am not!” Emmy was loudly protesting.

“Are so!”

“I am not!

“Are so!”

“Children!” Mary said sharply. “Stop bickering and sit down.” She took her place opposite Katherine, on William’s other side, and the children sat opposite each other beside the ladies. 

“Well…” William began, his awkwardness proving hard to shift. “Tuck in, I suppose.” 

With the tinkling of five sets of cutlery, their meal began. Mary and Katherine chatted easily as they ate, the older woman quizzing the younger on everything from her education to her father’s farm to her hobbies and interests, seeming delighted with every answer. William sat between them, envying his sister for her ease. He wasn’t a bad conversationalist - his manners were good and he knew how to make people feel comfortable and listened to - but he often worried that he was boring people, that he was too serious. At a lunch like this, he would far rather let the conversation happen around him as it was than try to entertain or dominate it like some men would have.

“...Isn’t that right William?”

“Hmmm?”

“I was just saying to Miss King that you too, were very partial to walking as exercise.”

“Oh, yes.” he answered. “...Do you walk a lot, Miss King?”

“A few miles a day. I find it helps me get my thoughts in order - plan my day well, or settle myself for the night.”

“Indeed?” he asked, his interest now piqued. “I find that too, though I’ve never heard a lady say the same.”

“William, we ought to all go for a walk after lunch. A constitutional! What do you think, Miss King?”

“That sounds a lovely idea.” she answered enthusiastically

“Wonderful! The top of Fox Hill - just past the sheep folds - is my favourite view in the county. Have you ever been up there Miss King?”

“I don’t believe I have. Isn’t that on your land Mr Boldwood?”

“It is, yes.”

“Ah, well I don’t make a habit of trespassing.” She teased.

“That settles it. A walk up Fox Hill will do us all a world of good.” Mary declared. Miles and Emily were terribly excited about the prospect, and to their mother’s surprise, both wolfed down the remainder of their lunch.

Scarcely twenty minutes later, the five of them were bundled into winter coats, scarves and gloves, and on their way to Fox Hill. As they set off down the path, Emmy once again latched onto William’s hand, and Mary took Katherine’s arm in her own as she had when they had met. Miles as usual went sprinting off ahead.

“Miles! Miles dear, not too far!” Mary called, but the boy didn’t look back. She sighed in exasperation and shook her head.

“He’s so energetic!” Katherine laughed. 

“Yes, and curious.” Mary said. “I think he must have grilled William about every plant, animal and pebble in the county at this rate.”

Katherine laughed heartily. “I’m sure his uncle could tell him about all of them.” She teased, and William found himself laughing along.

A few minutes later, Miles came running back to them.

“Mama, Mama! Look what I found!” He skidded to a stop in front of them and held out his hand, which held a small pebble, unusual looking in that it was white and slightly translucent. It was smooth and rounded, and on one flat surface there were some scratchings that looked like they might once have been letters.

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure. William?”

William took the rock from the boy and turned it over in his hands, looking at the letters.

“I don’t know Miles. It looks as though someone tried to write their name on it.”

“Oh, that’s a promise stone!” Katherine said confidently. “The letters are initials. It’s an old local custom - you carve your initials and your love’s initials on the stone and then put it somewhere safe, and it’s said your love will last as long as the stone.”

William was surprised. He had never heard of such a custom, but then he didn’t mix terribly often with the local people, so that was hardly surprising. “I’ve never heard of such a thing?” he said, handing her the stone.

“Oh yes it’s quite common. This one must be quite old, the initials have nearly worn off.” She passed it back to Miles. “You put that in your pocket, Miles, and be sure to look after it. Keep it safe, alright?” 

“Alright.” he answered seriously, tucking it into his breast pocket as though it were a precious treasure. They continued their walk, Miles and Emmy chatting eagerly to their new friend Miss King about all the new things they had seen since coming to Uncle William’s. 

“And Uncle William promised he would teach me to ride a _proper_ horse like he does once I’m 11 and my legs are long enough to reach the stirrups.” Miles was saying excitedly.

“It’s not fair, I want to ride a horse!” Emmy said, pouting.

“You’re too little, Emmy.” Miles answered, superiority dripping in his tone as though he hadn’t just announced himself also too little.

“I am not!” She said, sounding upset. “Am I Uncle William?”

She looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes that went straight to his heart.

“Of course not Emmy. I know the perfect horse for you.”

Her face lit up. “Really?”

“Yes!” He declared, dipping suddenly to pick her up and throw her easily onto his shoulders. He snorted and whinnied as she shrieked with laughter, and wrapped her small arms around his head to keep her balance. “I warn you, this is no racehorse, but he’ll get you home all the same if you give him a chance! Now, hold on to my mane so I can see where we’re going.” he chuckled, moving her arms out of his way. Emmy’s delighted shrieks along with the women’s laughter made him beam, and though he was a little self-conscious to behave in such a silly way in front of Miss King - and though within a minute of offering his services as trusty steed his shoulders were aching and his breathing laboured - he would not have asked her to come down for all the world. 

About a quarter of an hour later however, Mary did come to his rescue. “Miles, Emmy, we ought to head back to the house soon. I’ve just remembered I promised to send the letter to Papa in the morning post and you need to finish your parts before supper.”

“Oh but Mama!” the children protested in unison.

“No buts, come on you two.”

“Can Uncle William carry me back?” Emmy asked.

“I don’t mind-” her uncle began, but Mary cut him off.

“No no, there’s no sense in everyone having their walk cut short. Besides, the whole point of this walk was to allow Miss King to see the view from the top of the hill. No, why don’t the two of you keep walking and we’ll see you back at the house later.” She caught William’s eye, and he realised what she was trying to do. He shot her a reproving glance as he lifted Emmy down off his shoulders, but she only smiled innocently back at him. “Right children, come along.” She said briskly, giving a hand to each child and turning back towards the house. “We’ll see you back at the house!” She called over her shoulder. With that, William and Katherine were alone.

“Well…” he began. “I suppose we should…”

“Yes…” she answered, and they turned to continue down the path.

“So Miss King, what do you make of my sister?”

“She’s lovely! Quite a force of nature though, I must say.” she replied.

He chuckled at that. “Oh that she is, without a doubt.”

“You two seem quite different. Were you always that way?”

William thought for a moment. Had they always been such opposites? “I...I’m not sure. I think she was always a little more outgoing, but we were practically joined at the hip as children, people used to say. I think our differences became more pronounced as we grew and I went to school though.” 

“I suppose that’s often the way when people are living apart..”

“What about you - do you have any siblings?”

“I had a brother who was two years younger than me - Robert. He passed away when I was eleven.”

“I’m terribly sorry.” William answered sincerely. “Forgive me, I-”

“No no, Mr Boldwood, it’s alright. He was a frail child, he used to have such awful fits. But a dear, sweet boy.”

William didn’t know what to do, he had clearly hit an uncomfortable spot. He scrabbled for something to say, and asked the first question that came into his mind.

“What was he like?”

Katherine seemed surprised by the question, but not upset. “He was very gentle, and funny. Lord how he used to make us laugh!” She chuckled to herself as she remembered. “He loved nature. He struggled to read, so I would read aloud to him from Papa’s bestiaries and herbariums, and then point the plants and animals out to him when we went for walks. He became a real expert with trees in particular, used to collect different types of leaves and keep them pressed in books.”

Boldwood smiled as she recollected these memories from her childhood. “I used to do that as well.” he said. “I would test myself by mixing them up, spreading them across the drawing room floor and sorting them back into the right pages of ‘Historia Plantarum’.

“Ah, so Miles is right to grill his uncle on the local flora and fauna!” she teased.

He laughed. “I don’t know about that! It’s been a long time since then, and school does tend to empty one’s head of that sort of useful information and refill it with Ancient Greek and Latin instead. But yes, I can manage tolerably well with the local plants. I am a farmer, after all.” he said teasingly.

She laughed but gave no reply, and they lapsed into a companionable silence as they walked, the air no longer awkward as it had been when they had started out. A little further along the way, they came to a small stile at the foot of the path up Fox Hill. Boldwood climbed over it first, before offering Katherine a steadying hand to help her navigate it. 

“So Mr Boldwood,” she asked as she climbed down and they set off climbing the steep path up the hill. “Mary says this is the finest view in the county. Would you agree?”

“Oh certainly. It gives an excellent view of the whole of Weatherbury, the farm, the park and the surrounding countryside.”

“It sounds wonderful.”

“Well, I will allow you to judge for yourself.” He answered. They spoke less as they climbed, Mr. Boldwood for one trying to conceal how he was panting as he struggled to keep up with Miss King. Eventually, as Boldwood was considering whether he could ask her to slow down and still maintain his dignity, they crested the top of the hill. 

“Oh my!” Katherine exclaimed. “Mary certainly did not lie!”

“No.” he panted. “She rarely does.” He placed his hands on his waist in a pose that he hoped Miss King would take as surveying the view, rather than pressing on the stitch in his side.

“Gosh Mr Boldwood, the house looks wonderful from here - I had never realised quite how large it was!”

He didn’t know what to reply to a statement like that, and besides he was far too out of breath to manage a sentence, so he merely nodded his head in acknowledgement.

“And the park looks wonderfully well-kept. I would so love to see it in full bloom in the spring.”

He took in a couple of deep breaths, before answering “Well Miss King, you are welcome on the grounds anytime.” Then he added teasingly, “No need to worry about getting in trouble for trespassing.”

She laughed. “Thank you Mr Boldwood, that is very gracious of you. The same goes of course for our own farm.”

“Well, thank you Miss King. You may yet find me wandering through your potatoes one night.” he joked, finally admitting defeat against his lungs and taking a seat on a bare, weathered tree trunk. He had had the trunk moved up here to allow himself somewhere to sit on his walks, without spoiling the natural beauty of the spot.

“Do you often walk the country at night?” she asked.

“Sometimes.” He replied. “I sometimes find it difficult to sleep. Walking helps.”

“I see.” she answered, nodding her head. To his surprise, she sat beside him on the tree trunk. She seemed content to sit in silence and take in the view, and he had no objections, and so that was what they did.

Presently, William noticed that the sun was beginning to slink towards the western horizon.

“We had better get back while we still have the light.” he said, making Katherine jump after their long silence. 

“Yes of course.” she replied. They rose and set off back towards the house, their conversation once again patchy and punctuated with periods of companionable silence.

~

That evening, once Miss King had been taken home by one of the servants in the carriage (against her protests that such extravagance was wholly unnecessary), and the children sent to bed, William and Mary were drinking cocoa by the fire in the drawing room, just as they used to as children. 

“Well, that was a lovely way to spend a day, William.” she said

“Mm, yes. Miles and Emmy seemed to enjoy themselves.”

“And Miss King too…?”

“Yes, Miss King as well.”

A moment’s silence passed between them.

“She’s a sweet girl.” 

William cocked an eyebrow over his cup and took a slow, measured sip. “Yes I suppose she is.”

“Are the two of you good _friends_?”

“Mary....” He cautioned.

“I’m only asking!”

He took another sip of his cocoa before he answered.

“She seems lovely Mary, but I only spoke to her for the first time three weeks ago.”

“I didn’t ask how long you had known her.” she quickly returned.

William fidgeted with the handle of his cup, looking into the murky liquid inside. “We are...acquaintances...” he finished weakly.

“Indeed?” Mary studied his face for a moment by the firelight as he studiously avoided her gaze. “She certainly seems keen to become better acquainted with _you_.”

William sighed, placing his cup on the side table. “Yes, I had noticed.”

Mary beamed. “And? You are thinking about it?”

“Again Mary, I’ve known her all of three weeks. Besides, I suspect it’s less _me_ she wants to become acquainted with and more the house and the park…”

“William Boldwood, sometimes I honestly could throttle you.” she said exasperatedly. “I don’t think that’s true, and I think if you gave her a chance, you would see that too.”

“For a third time Mary. I have known her all of _three weeks_. How much more of a chance am I supposed to have given her in that time?”

“You could try inviting her to luncheons without the help of your sister…” He scoffed.

“Are you quite finished?”

“No, not quite.” William rolled his eyes but waited for her to finish.

“William. I know that you are a romantic at heart - that in the past nothing less than head-over-heels has done for you. Let me give you some practical advice: You could do a lot worse than a bright, kind, sensible girl like Katherine King. I’m telling you that she is interested. Now, I’m not suggesting you propose to her _tomorrow_ , merely that you continue getting ‘acquainted’, and that you keep an open mind. She could do you a lot of good.”

William scowled at his sister.

“ _Now_ I’m finished.”

He raised an eyebrow at her as he picked his cocoa cup back up. “Well, you are nothing if not persistent…” he muttered, and Mary grinned at her brother.


	5. Candlemas

Katherine arrived home from Mr. Boldwood’s on the evening of the 13th of January with much to think about. Desiring to be alone to untangle her thoughts as quickly as possible, she kept her conversation with her parents as brief and detail-light as they would allow,. (remembering to pass on the kind regards that the gentleman had expressed for them) and did her best to dodge her mother’s questions about the gentleman’s house and character. At last, mercifully, she was able to slip upstairs and shut herself in her bedroom, where she immediately threw herself onto her back on the bed, without so much as lighting the lamp or removing a shoe.

What was she to make of the whole carry-on? The extreme warmth of Boldwood’s sister, the unusual degree of reservation on the part of the man himself, the peculiar matter of them being unexpectedly sent alone on the walk. Mary had even invited Katherine round for tea on Tuesday. It was all certainly puzzling, though not necessarily unwelcome. The more she turned it over, the more obvious it became to her that Mary might have had an ulterior motive in making the invite, and that Boldwood might not have been an entirely willing participant.

Katherine could not pretend that that was something to be pleased about - the poor man being required to spend time with her at the behest of his sister. She would far rather not press her company on the gentleman, preferring to get to know him more organically. However, it did suggest one thing to her: that, to Mary at least, the matter of her rank seemed to brook no impediment to her forming a closer acquaintance with the family.

So. That being established, what ought she to do? It may not have been an arrangement Katherine would have chosen, but what would be the best way to proceed now that it was begun? Well, that was straightforward enough. Having the preliminary approval of the sister was one thing, and certainly a helpful thing, but Katherine’s desire was for the brother and it was his affection she craved. She had daydreamed at length these last few weeks about gaining his respect, his favour, even an intimacy with him. She had wondered as he drove her home from Casterbridge, whether the seeds of such an affection might even have been planted? But Mary’s intervention seemed to have birthed in him a new self-consciousness - an awkwardness which she had always sensed present but which he had kept generally under concealment. If she wanted to become better acquainted with him, she would need to work around this. She would need to proceed slowly so as to not seem like a co-conspirator, or an over-eager, foolish young girl. She must try to give every appearance of ease and comfort around him (no mean feat) so as to not throw into relief their differences in status, wealth and age. 

As well as this, Katherine was keenly aware that she scarcely knew a thing about Mr. Boldwood. Granted, she was very taken with what she had observed so far, but what if he turned out to be unkind? Tight-fisted? Proud? Katherine’s feelings may have already gathered considerable strength, but she was not above pushing them aside if needs be - she was well aware that not all men were deserving of the affections ladies afforded them. She must endeavour to make the most of the opportunity to find out more of the man’s character.

With a sigh, Katherine climbed off her bed and began to undress. She had much to consider, but doing so when she was tired was likely to give rise to more questions than answers.

~

In the weeks that followed that first lunch, Katherine’s suspicions about Mary’s motivations were more or less confirmed by frequent invitations to come and spend time with the family at Lower Farm. After tea the following Tuesday, Mary invited her to join them for a country walk the very next day, and thereafter the invitation to Lower Farm was practically a standing daily one. The two women quickly became firm friends, sharing a lively sense of humour and an active, playful temperament. Katherine also quickly became a favourite with the children - Miles appreciating her willingness to play along with his more energetic games and Emily delighted to have a woman to look up to who wasn’t her mother. After sitting near Katherine during church the following Sunday, Emily had become a very vocal admirer of the lady’s singing and begged to be taught how to sing. Katherine had agreed readily and thereafter, every visit to Mr. Boldwood’s was immediately begun with an exhortation to “Sing with me, please!” from the girl. Katherine taught Emily a few local folk songs, and she began to sing them wherever she went, to Katherine’s great delight.

She found that progress with Mr Boldwood, however, had been decidedly harder to gauge than with the rest of his family. She had made every effort to be friendly towards the gentleman without appearing over-eager. She had sprinkled her conversation with compliments on his taste, his home, his gardens and one or two on his character. If Katherine was being honest, she found it decidedly hard work to hold back her desire to shower him with praise. She frequently caught herself staring at a stray lock of his hair over dinner, or watching him attentively as he played with his niece and nephew - more than once she had been so lost in thought that she had had to ask Mary to repeat herself.

For the first week or so, Mr Boldwood was as inscrutable as he had been at that first lunch - one moment genial warmth, the next over-polite stiffness. However, as he got used to her near-constant company, he did eventually relax, and a genuine friendship began to spring up between the two of them. Not so warm as Katherine’s friendship with Mary, but one that was certainly marked by a genuine regard on both sides, as far as Katherine could tell at least. They conversed more freely, joked with one another, and Katherine was very pleased to find that though her early impressions of Mr Boldwood as a kind but reserved man were correct, he was also generous, witty and - under the right circumstances - almost as playful as his sister. 

They bonded in particular over their mutual love of his niece and nephew. Between the two of them they could answer any question that Miles had about the natural world surrounding the farm. Miles began using every walk the family and Katherine took to try and find something to ask about that would stump Boldwood and Miss King, but to no avail, as both were too knowledgeable. 

Emily also seemed, inadvertently, to be working almost as hard as her mother to bring Katherine and Boldwood together. One afternoon, as Katherine and Emmy were having one of their ‘singing lessons’ (really just singing nursery rhymes and folk songs together), Emmy had an idea.

“Uncle William!” she exclaimed suddenly, running over to her uncle who had been reading in a chair by the window of the drawing room.

“Will you play the piano for us to sing with?”

He hesitated a moment and Katherine was about to make an excuse for him to spare him declining the request, but to her surprise he agreed. “Yes Emmy, alright.” he answered, closing his book and placing it on the end table before coming to the piano and sitting down. “Do you have any music, Miss King?” he asked, lifting the lid and propping up the music stand.

Katherine was surprised by his readiness to perform for them, but quickly produced a small songbook and set it up for him. She and Emmy stood behind him to read over his shoulder, and they sang a couple of snatches while he played. But soon Emmy, excited with the novelty of having an accompanist, got bored of simply singing songs. “Uncle William, can I sit on your knee and play the piano? Pleeease?” she asked, looking up at him with wide pleading eyes. 

“Of course, Emmy love.” He scooped her up and sat her in his lap, showing her patiently where to place her hands, and how hard to press the keys. He taught her to pick out the folk tune she had just sang, playing with just one finger at a time. Soon she had the hang of it, so he began to accompany her melody with chords below it, making her beam with delight.

“Miss King, Miss King look!” she exclaimed excitedly. “I’m doing it!”

Katherine’s heart swelled watching the little girl’s joy and the patient affection of her uncle, and she could only smile warmly in answer. At that moment, Boldwood looked up from the music he was playing and caught her eye, smiling as broadly as she and setting her heart a-flutter. That particular episode became a particular favourite for Katherine to replay in her mind in her rare moments alone.

And yet, Katherine found it hard to truly celebrate her increasing acquaintance with the gentleman. She could not help but worry that her and Mr. Boldwood had become a little too much like friends for her liking - that is to say, she could find little difference between his behaviour towards her and his behaviour towards his sister. This produced in her a strange yearning, stronger even than the fascination she had developed early in their acquaintance. She longed for him to give her some special attention - a lingering look, an offer to take his arm while they walked, an invitation to spend time with him alone, anything to indicate that he had any interest in her beyond the friendly. But no such attention was forthcoming, and Katherine soon began to believe that the man was simply being kind to her because she was a neighbour and a friend of his sister.

Three weeks after their initial arrival, and far too soon for anyone’s liking, Mary and the children were due to return to Bristol. On the eve of their last full day, a Friday, the group decided to take a last walk up Fox Hill after lunch. As everyone was distracted donning their outdoor clothes, Mr Boldwood pulled Katherine aside conspiratorially.

“Miss King,” he asked, pulling on his gloves. “I was wondering if I might ask a favour?” Katherine felt her pulse quicken.

“Certainly sir, what do you need?”

“Would you come with me to Casterbridge tomorrow morning? I would like to buy some presents for Mary and the children before they leave and...well…” he looked a little embarrassed. “A woman’s eye would be useful.”

“I’d be happy to!” she agreed enthusiastically. “Shall I come round say at nine-thirty and we can set off together?”

“No need, I can pick you up from your own house in the dog-cart.” he lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper. “I’d rather keep the venture a surprise.”

“Ah, understood.” Katherine returned, winking conspiratorially. He grinned back at her.

“Thank you. I will pick you up at nine-thirty?”

“Yes, alright.”

At that moment, Emmy ran across and tugged violently at Mr Boldwood’s coat. “Hurry up Uncle William, let’s go!”

He chuckled, and turned away from Katherine to follow his niece out the door.

~

The following morning, Boldwood arrived at nine-thirty on the dot. They drove to Casterbridge together, chatting easily, and in the space of an hour or so had procured a doll for Emily, a pocket compass for Miles and a beautiful scarf of local wool for Mary, picked out by Katherine. Boldwood treated them both to a quick drink in the pub, before driving them back to Weatherbury. On the return journey, he asked Katherine if she would distract Mary that afternoon with a walk into the village or something similar, as he was planning a surprise with Miles and Emily.

She was only too happy to oblige, and so, within half an hour of her and Boldwood’s return, Katherine and Mary were walking arm-in-arm down the hill towards the village. Katherine tried to engage Mary in conversation about the weather, the area, her trip, but couldn’t help but notice that her friend was rather subdued. She opened her mouth to enquire as to why, just as Mary at last broke her silence.

“Katherine, may I ask you a question?”

Katherine laughed nervously. “My, you sound serious Mary. I think you had better ask and get it over with!”

Mary smiled, then paused a moment. “Katherine, what do you feel for my brother?”

Katherine’s stomach lurched unpleasantly, her mirth immediately evaporating. “I... I have a great deal of respect for Mr. Boldwood.” she answered stiffly.

“Is respect all?” Mary asked, eyeing Katherine enquiringly. Katherine shifted uncomfortably

“Mary, why are you asking?”

“Never mind that, just tell me.”

Katherine paused for a moment before suddenly exclaiming “Would you look over there!” and pointing urgently over Mary’s shoulder. Mary did not take the bait, but she did laugh, batting Katherine’s pointing arm aside.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Katherine!” She laughed. Katherine laughed too.

“No, I know.” She sighed in defeat. “I suppose you must already have worked out some of how I feel or you wouldn’t ask.”

“I had suspicions. Are you in love with him?”

“Mary, I’ve barely known him for six weeks.” Katherine answered quickly, her cheeks flushing.

“Lord, you’re as bad as each other.” Mary muttered. “If I recall, my question was not about the length of your acquaintance.”

“I…” Katherine paused. “I don’t know.” She answered honestly. “I’ve never been in love before, Mary. But I certainly feel things for him that I’ve never felt for any other man.”

“What sorts of things?” Mary asked. 

Katherine hesitated again, trying to work out how to put the confusion of the last six weeks into words. “I suppose, I think about him often?” she paused, dropping her gaze to the ground. “Well...almost constantly, actually. Whenever my mind has a spare moment, he is the first thought it wanders to. Whenever he is in a room, it’s as though my eyes are just...pulled...to him. When we’re apart, I either think about the time I _have_ spent with him, or of when I hope to see him next. When I do get to be around him, I feel such a peculiar feeling. A sort of relief _and_ pain, at the same time. As though it’s everything I want and not nearly enough…” Katherine trailed off, suddenly self-conscious as she remembered that she was talking to the gentleman’s own sister. 

There was a silence for a long moment before Mary spoke, gently. “Well, I don’t pretend to be an expert, Katherine, but to me that sounds like the beginnings of love, certainly.”

Katherine laughed shakily and buried her face in her hands. “Oh _Lord_ Mary, how mortifying! To be in love with a man who six weeks ago was as good as a stranger.” 

Mary chuckled kindly and patted Katherine on the shoulder. “You’d be surprised how quickly and completely love can come over you. You are far from the first person to be overtaken by it before you quite knew what it was.”

Katherine lowered her hands and smiled weakly, somewhat comforted. Suddenly a new fear occurred to her. “Mary - You mustn’t tell him!” she exclaimed, grabbing Mary’s arm.

“Don’t fret Katherine, my lips are sealed.” Katherine breathed a sigh of relief and loosened her grip on Mary’s arm.

“May I give you a word of advice though, Katherine?”

“You may…” Katherine answered, some of her unease returning.

“Be patient with William. He has suffered some hurts in the past, and he worries far too much; but he is learning and I believe he is trying.”

Katherine was quiet for a moment, taking in the older woman’s words. “Mary, how do you mean me to take that advice? Do you mean that he is interested too?”

“I’m afraid Katherine, that I am no mind reader. I can’t speak to how he feels, I can only tell you what I do know about my brother’s character. I can see that you bring out his good side.” Mary took Katherine’s hand. “I’ve never seen another woman do that for him, but whether or not he sees that I really can’t say. I suppose I simply want you to know that I believe he is worth waiting for.”

Katherine considered this for a moment. “Thank you Mary.” she answered simply.

When they arrived back, it turned out that Boldwood and the children had rehearsed a little play to mark the guests’ last evening. Emily was playing the role of Cinderella, with one of Mr Boldwood’s cheaper tablecloths serving as her magical fairy ball gown. Miles played the ugly step-sister (only one because they were short of actors), the fairy godmother _and_ Prince Charming, while Mr Boldwood took on the roles of narrator, footman/carriage horse and Evil step-mother, donning a pince-nez and a dusty old wig that Katherine was surprised he owned. The play was charming, and children and uncle threw themselves into the parts with gusto. Their audience of two laughed, gasped and sighed in all the appropriate places, before giving an enthusiastic standing ovation at the curtain call, for which the actors did in fact come out from behind the drawing room curtains. “Bravo!” cheered Mary. “Wonderful!” as Boldwood and the children joined hands and bowed, beaming. 

After the play, they passed a pleasant final evening of dining and chatting, but at length it came time for Katherine to take her leave. They gathered at the door and she said fond farewells to Mary, Miles and Emily, embracing them each in turn and promising Mary that she would write frequently. She offered Boldwood a polite goodnight and stepped through the door to walk to the waiting carriage, but to her surprise he followed after her into the night. 

“Miss King. Thank you once again for your help this morning. And this afternoon.” He said

“Not at all, happy to be of use!” she returned, smiling.

He paused for a moment “It has been very enjoyable to get to know you better these past few weeks, Miss King. I hope you won’t become a stranger without Mary and the children to tempt you back.” he smiled, a hint of something else playing around the corners of his mouth that puzzled Katherine.

“No, I should hope not, sir.” She wondered whether she ought to say more, but her nerve failed her. “Goodnight.” she said, and with that she stepped into the carriage and closed the door. 

Well, the day had certainly been interesting, Katherine thought as the carriage wound it’s familiar way towards King farm. 

~

After the departure of Mary and the children, Katherine was in low spirits. The woman had become a close friend and it was only natural to mourn the loss of her acquaintance, and of the entertainment of the children. But if Katherine was honest, she was also mourning the sudden loss of her friendship with Mr Boldwood. Since his sister’s departure, no new invitation had been forthcoming from Lower Farm, and Katherine felt it would be improper of her to actively seek out his sole company when they had barely spent any time alone together. Regardless though, she missed him terribly, and found herself walking the local countryside, and into Weatherbury more frequently than she would, in hopes of running into him. No such luck was to be had, however, and the next time she saw the gentleman was nearly a week after Mary’s departure.

The thirteenth of February happened to be Ash Wednesday, and Katherine and her parents, as was their custom, attended the short service of communion and imposition of ashes at the parish church. Mr Boldwood sat several pews in front of them, but Katherine did not get an opportunity to converse with him. The most she managed was a polite smile on her way back from the communion rail which he returned somewhat stiffly. Katherine’s heart sank. Perhaps the gentleman really had only been friendly towards her to indulge his sister. She blinked away tears as she took her pew, chiding herself for being so silly as to upset herself over a not-quite-smile from a man who had, until recently, been a friend. But, try as she might, she couldn’t put the thought of that tight smile from her mind, and she was slow to fall asleep that night.

Katherine awoke early on Thursday morning. Her bedroom window faced west and the sky was still dark, though the faintest brightening seemed to leak round the corners of the sky as the rising sun threatened the eastern horizon. The morning seemed to bring some clarity and perspective to her that had been missing the night before. She lay for a moment and considered what she ought to do. Should she try to rekindle the acquaintance? Make her intentions a little clearer? She could even send him a valentine...? 

Or perhaps she should leave it to Mr. Boldwood to seek out her company....No that didn’t feel right, she thought, sitting up in bed and rubbing her sleep dimmed eyes. She knew he could be shy, what if he believed she had only been coming to the house for Mary and the children? No, she decided, she should try to seek him out. As she threw off the bedclothes, a plan of action began to form. She would go for a walk in his park - perhaps up Fox Hill - as he had several times said she was welcome to, and hope to run into him there. Failing that, she would look for a more direct measure. 

That decided, Katherine’s heart felt lighter, though she felt a little nervous. She padded over to her window and lifted the latch, throwing the window wide and enjoying the rush of cold morning air. She leaned on the windowsill, singing one of the songs she had taught Emily to herself as she looked out over the field and up the hill towards the thin line of trees silhouetted against the dim, purple sky. A movement caught her eye near the treeline, and she squinted into the darkness trying to make out the shape of it, but it was gone a moment later. A fox perhaps, or even a deer? She brushed the thought aside and began to get dressed. She had plans for her day.


	6. Ash Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'William Boldwood strode deliberately up the hill behind his manor house.
> 
> The subject of tonight’s consideration was this: Miss Katherine King. Or, more specifically: What ought he to do about Miss Katherine King.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're at the (hopefully) halfway-mark folks! When I started this story I only intended it to be about 20,000 words but uh...that didn't happen.
> 
> I'm going to try to get into less wild-west posting schedule soon, once I start my masters in a couple of weeks. Thanks for sticking with this story!

Night lay heavily across the fields and valleys of Dorset. The sky was clear and cold, but bright, high, and speckled with innumerable glimmering stars that lent a brightness even to the inky canvas of the heavens. A pallid moon, just past full, bathed the farms and houses of Weatherbury in a silvery light and washed the landscape of the vibrant colour it possessed in daylight, turning it into a monochrome scene. The air was still and the silence profound, barely a creature stirring in the fields or forests. One creature alone, was wide awake and restless.

William Boldwood strode deliberately up the hill behind his manor house. His mind had been in a state of agitation since the Ash Wednesday service, and he had wrestled with it for several hours earlier in the night, only to abandon all thought of sleep as the grandfather clock on the landing had chimed the hour of four. Climbing out of his bed, he had slipped into his clothes and outside into the night. As was his custom when thoughts weighed on his mind, he intended to walk and think until he had untangled it all.

The subject of tonight’s consideration was this: Miss Katherine King. Or, more specifically: What ought he to do about Miss Katherine King.

Following the prompting from Mary after that first lunch, William had decided to give some consideration to Miss King’s supposed interest. He was, after all, looking to be married soon for practical reasons and, as Mary had rightly pointed out, he needed to begin to think a little less sentimentally and a little more sensibly about the prospect. And so, he had agreed to get to know Miss King a little better; to try to get the ‘lay of the land’ in that direction.

After that Sunday, Mr. Boldwood paid more attention to the young woman’s manner - taking great pains to be as subtle as he could - when they were in each other’s company. He spoke little, preferring to observe her in conversation with Mary or engaging with the children, and quickly gleaned that she was a bright, kind girl, exactly as Mary had said. Very soon, she and Mary had formed a friendship that gave Mr. Boldwood further assurance of her good character, and so he began to feel a little more at ease in her company. 

The Saturday after their first lunch, their group took another walk to the top of Fox Hill. Miles was in high spirits that day, and was amusing himself with his favourite country walk passtime - asking innumerable questions about everything he saw.

“Uncle William, what kind of tree is that?”

“Uncle William, what kind of sheep is that?”

“Uncle William, what kind of bird is that?”

Trees and sheep William could answer about easily enough, but his knowledge of birds was unfortunately somewhat lacking, and when Miles pointed to a small bird perched on a nearby fencepost, William had hit the ceiling of his knowledge. However, to his surprise, Miss King jumped in with the answer.

“That’s a Goldcrest Miles, see the stripe on the top of its head?” She placed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder and crouched, pointing to the distinctive crest that gave the bird its name. She spoke softly so as not to scare the bird away. “You can tell if it’s a male or a female by the colour of the stripe - the males have an orange streak in the middle of the yellow but the females don’t. Which do you think we have here?” she asked him.

The boy slowly edged closer to the bird, trying not to frighten it away. He examined it, then whispered “Is it a male?” 

Miss King smiled broadly at the boy. “I believe you’re right Miles.” she answered softly, and the boy beamed back at her. William was impressed with her knowledge. As she straightened back up and they continued on their way he shot her a questioning glance, to which she shrugged and answered simply: “Robert liked birds too.”

Miss King had further ingratiated herself with the children the next day, when Emmy heard her singing in church and was instantly amazed. The girl had begged her for singing lessons, and Miss King had quickly agreed. In all honesty, William thought she was too young to really be taught anything, but Miss King was patient and kept their lessons short and simple, teaching the girl little snatches or rounds by repetition, really more like play than lessons. It instantly became part of their daily routine that when Miss King arrived in the morning, she and Emmy would stand by the piano in the drawing room and sing together. William liked to sit in on these lessons and listen, under the pretense of reading a book by the window, though actually basking in his niece’s enjoyment of a passtime that he too had enjoyed as a choirboy. But of course, Emmy could never let her uncle sit quietly for long, and within a few days he had been roped in as accompanist/piano teacher. Well, he had said “roped in” when he talked to Mary about it, but really he had taken absolutely no persuasion, happy as usual to indulge his niece’s every whim, and enjoying a rare opportunity to make music with others. 

The music lessons also presented an ideal opportunity to observe more of Miss King’s manner around him, and assess whether she did perhaps have the intentions that Mary suspected. She certainly did pay attention to him, and seemed to genuinely respect - perhaps even like - him. She was impressed with his piano playing, with the piano itself, with the room, the house, the gardens. In fact, she was, as a rule, very liberal with her compliments - though Boldwood noted that they tended to be on his possessions rather than his person. Well, that was only to be expected, he supposed. He hardly had much else to offer a beautiful young woman, and if she could see some value in him, what did it matter to him where she saw it?

In spite of his beliefs about her motivations, William found himself pleased with the friendship that was growing between them. With every day, his respect and regard for her grew. She certainly had many qualities worth admiring, and he increasingly wondered why she had remained single until twenty-six years of age. With her dark eyes, dark hair, and near-constant shining smiles, she was reportedly known as a local beauty, and he certainly wouldn’t refute that. But that begged the question, how could she possibly have any interest in marrying him, even with the lure of his wealth? That question frequently occurred to him, but whenever it did he pushed it aside. He wasn’t even certain she _was_ interested in marrying him, he himself was nowhere near proposing and, even if he had been, what good could come of asking that particular question? Better to concern himself with questions he could answer.

On the day before Mary was due to return to Bristol, William had planned a trip to Casterbridge to get some leaving presents for his family. The previous afternoon, somewhat on a whim, he had invited Miss King to accompany him. He cited her expert eye as the reason, but if he had thought more closely about it, he might also have conceded that he was curious to spend some time with Miss King without Mary and the children present. He set off early, as he had planned, driving himself in the dog-cart as was his custom on short journeys, and picked Miss King up at the agreed time.

They chatted easily and laughed together on the drive, and William reflected that if nothing else, he was glad that Mary’s meddling had at least brought him a friend in Miss King. His only other friend in Weatherbury had been Gabriel Oak, and that friendship was decidedly less easy these days. 

When they arrived in the village, the first port of call was Harding’s, the toy shop, where they purchased a doll for Emily, and a pocket compass for Miles, as well as a lolly each. William knew his sister would object to the latter, but loved to use his right as uncle to spoil the children. When it came to finding something for Mary however, he was a little shorter on inspiration. 

“What about a pendant?” Miss King suggested as they walked through the market, carrying the brown paper-wrapped package from Hardings.

“Mary is very particular about her jewellery, the last time I bought her some she hated it, and made me promise never to do so again.” he said with a wry smile.

Miss King laughed. “A hat?” 

“Hmmm...perhaps. But don’t you ladies usually match your hats to the rest of your outfit? Surely it would be difficult to buy the hat apart from the rest?”

“Yes I think you might be right...Ah! I have it!” she exclaimed, darting to a nearby stall that was piled high with balls of local wool in all colours, as well and knitted and woven items. “What about a scarf? Made with local wool as a connection to the country - and the brother - she loves so dearly?”

William was surprised with the suggestion but he had to agree, it was a good idea. “Yes alright,” he replied, coming to join her at the stall. “Which one do you think she would like?”

Katherine considered for a moment. “I think the green one. It would bring out her eyes.” She picked up the scarf and passed it to him to examine. It was emerald green, woven from lambswool and soft as a cloud. Mary would love it.

“A fine choice, Miss King.” He said, grinning at her. He turned to the seller at the stall - a broad man with a dark bushy moustache. “How much?” he asked.

“Ten shillings ninepence.” the man answered gruffly.

William was taken a little aback at the price, though he reached into his pocket to pay it nonetheless, but Miss King took his arm to stop him. He looked at her, surprised.

“Wait a moment,” she said. “That seems a bit steep.” The man only shrugged in reply. “Now don’t misunderstand me sir, the scarf is lovely but it’s lambswool, not cashmere.”

“Alright, Ten shillings - I’ll knock off the ninepence.”

She frowned. “Nine shillings.” she countered.

William was surprised at her boldness, and seemingly the vendor was as well. He studied her for a moment. “Nine shillings and sixpence is as low as I’ll go, Miss.”

Katherine looked expectantly at William and he realised she was awaiting his approval of the price. “Yes alright,that sounds fair.” he said, reaching again into his pocket. It would never have even occurred to him to barter over the price of the scarf - after all, what was a shilling to him? - but he was impressed with her confidence and shrewd judgement. As he handed over the money and took the new scarf, he smiled appreciatively at her and noticed that, as she returned his smile, a faint flush spread across her high cheekbones.

“Well Miss King,” he began as they took their leave from the wool stall, “That was a rather unexpected bit of economy.”

“Ah sir, I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t embarrass you.”

“Not at all, I’m impressed. Although, I do now have an extra shilling burning a hole in my pocket… What would you say to a mug of hot cider in the Red Fox before we return to Weatherbury?”

“That sounds a lovely idea!” she answered brightly, and so that’s what they did. They passed a pleasant half hour in the pub, and Boldwood even bought them both a pork pie each, before they set off back home. An idea was crystallising in his head about how to make the last day special for the children, and it occurred to him that Miss King could prove useful in its execution.

“Miss King, may I ask one more favour of you today?” he said as the cart trundled up the road towards Weatherbury.

“Of course.”

“Would you mind taking Mary out for an hour or two when we get back? Just a walk around the village or something like that. I have a surprise I’d like to work on with the children.”

Katherine cocked an eyebrow at him but didn’t question it. “Yes alright, I don’t mind to.” she replied. 

“Thank you.” he answered, “You are in for a treat…” he murmured, as he began planning out costumes and allocating roles.

~

That evening, the play having been carried off with great aplomb (if he did say so himself), William, Mary, Miss King and the children had a last dinner together. They had a last ‘singing lesson’ with Emmy, a last game of “which tree has this latin name?” with Miles and the herbarium, and a last cup of cocoa by the fire. Eventually though, as the children’s bedtime drew near, Miss King announced that she had better be getting home. William asked Cavendish to have the carriage readied for her and, while this was being done, the group gathered by the door to say their farewells. Miss King embraced and kissed Mary and the children, promising repeatedly to write to them often. William, looking on these fond farewells, could only wonder whether this would mean the end of his fledgling friendship with Miss King too. As she finished saying goodbye to his family, she turned to him and, for a fleeting moment, he fancied she was going to embrace him too. But she only smiled politely, inclined her head and said “Goodnight, Mr. Boldwood.”, before turning and stepping into the night. He watched her go for a moment, but something overtook him and, before he knew what he was doing he had followed her outside. 

“Miss King,” he said, hardly knowing what he had intended to say, but committed now to saying something as she turned back to him. “Thank you once again for your help this morning.” A pause. “And this afternoon.” he smiled at her, trying to cover up his moment of awkwardness.

“Not at all, happy to be of use.” she answered with a polite smile.

He had more to say but he hesitated, unsure of how best to express his next sentiment. “It has been very...enjoyable to get to know you better these past few weeks, Miss King.” He shifted awkwardly, glad for the darkness that hid the flush he could feel creeping across his cheeks. “I hope you won’t become a stranger without Mary and the children to tempt you back.” He gave her a small smile, hoping she wouldn’t notice the genuine concern that he could hear colouring his tone.

“No, I should hope not, sir. Goodnight.” she answered, and with that she climbed into the carriage and closed the door behind her, leaving him standing alone in his driveway.

~

Now, nearly a week later, Boldwood again stood alone in the darkness. Now, as then, he felt paralysed with indecision. Mary thought (and had restated the morning of her departure) that he ought to ask Miss King to marry him, and with every passing hour he saw the sense of the idea more and more clearly. He liked the girl. She was good company, and they were already friends. She would make a sensible wife, a suitable companion. She was wonderful with the children and would no doubt make an excellent mother if he wanted to start a family. Most importantly of all, it seemed likely that she _would_ agree to the match, even if it was largely for his money and connections. From every angle he looked at it, it was the prudent choice. 

He began to climb towards the line of trees on the crest of the next hill. Despite all of his reason and logic, there was a reason why this night, of all others, he was restless and uncertain. 

When the sun rose, it would be Valentine’s day and - try as he might - Boldwood could not shake from his mind the memories of a morning two years previous. Of a small, anonymous card arriving over breakfast, sealed with wax and an ill-conceived proposal. He was haunted still by shame and guilt over his conduct in that whole affair, but the way he had felt about Miss Everdene? That had been something altogether new and powerful. Intoxicating. He had enjoyed the danger of it, though it had very nearly been his ruin. Perhaps that was the best reason of all to marry Miss King. Infatuation had done him nothing but harm in his life, though he had experienced it very little and only twice. Perhaps it was time - as Mary had suggested - for him to put aside his over-romanticised notions about being ‘in love’ in favour of a contentment and mutual respect that was practically guaranteed with Miss King. 

He crested the top of the hill and saw, as he looked to the east, the first fingers of daylight creeping over the horizon, though the sun would not heave itself sleepily over the horizon for a while yet. In the dip below him, he could make out a modest house with some outbuildings and fields, and realised that he had walked subconsciously to the King’s farm. In the dim light he could just make out the vague shapes of windows and doors, and wondered which window belonged to Miss King. At that moment, as though in answer to his question, a window on the first floor was flung wide and he heard the unmistakable sound of her singing drift across the still morning. 

He smiled fondly, a calmness settling over him as her singing brought back a flurry of memories in a rush - Epiphany Sunday when she had inadvertently sat beside him. Watching her teach Emmy to sing on many an afternoon in his drawing room, and later, her singing while he played and Emmy sat on his lap, jabbing tunelessly at the keys. As though the arrival of the dawn had washed away his confusion and melancholy, he felt content, and he knew in that moment that he would ask her to marry him. 

Turning away, he set off with haste for his own house, his thoughts no longer agitated but deliberate and planning. He intended to close the door once and for all today on the whole wretched affair with Miss Everdene, and he would begin by giving Valentine’s day a new lease of life - new memories to wipe away the old ones. In fact, he would ask Miss King to marry him that very day. 

Yes, that’s what he would do. 

He would invite her over and ask her to marry him.

Within twenty minutes he had arrived back at the house, and Cavendish was surprised to see him about so early.

“Is anything the matter sir?”

“Certainly not Cavendish, certainly not.” he replied, though there was an excitement in his voice that seemed to puzzle his valet. “Cavendish, I need you to do two things for me. First, send a note to Miss Katherine King. Tell her that I request the pleasure of her company here for tea at three o’clock.”

“Certainly sir.”

“Thank you. Secondly, I have had a long night and will be sleeping late this morning. Would you set out my best suit, with the brocade waistcoat that I wore at Christmas, and wake me at eleven?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you Cavendish,” William said, already climbing the stairs to his bedroom two-at-a-time. “That will be all.”


	7. Valentine's Day

A quarter to three. William Boldwood entered his drawing room. He crossed quickly to the high, mullioned window, and sat down in an armchair, at a table that had been neatly arranged and set with tea for two. Next to the porcelain teapot, a small vase held an arrangement of crocuses that the gardener had picked from his own grounds that afternoon. Boldwood’s fingers drummed on the lace-covered tabletop and he crossed and uncrossed his legs several times as he stared out the window. After a couple of minutes, he lurched to his feet and began to pace the room. His right hand seemed to be repeating a ritual of its own accord: stroking his beard, patting his jacket pocket, adjusting his cuff, taking out his pocket watch, opening it, and replacing it in the pocket of his brocade waistcoat. 

The seconds seemed to be passing achingly slowly, each tick of the mantel clock ringing in his ears as he listened intently for the sound of footsteps on the gravel drive, a bell pull, or Cavendish greeting a guest at the front door. But the only sound he heard was the chiming of three o’clock, which made him start. He once again pulled out his pocket watch to check that the mantel clock wasn’t fast, but the two were perfectly in time as, of course, all of Mr Boldwood’s clocks were. Lord, he hoped she had gotten the note Cavendish had sent. What if she had been out somewhere when his note arrived? What if she was no longer interested? What if she had never been interested? Perhaps he had misread her and she truly had only been visiting for Mary and the children? He was beginning to regret ever asking her here, ever allowing Mary to talk him into thinking of marriage, when he heard the ringing of the doorbell, and all such thoughts were swept from his mind. He hurried back to the table by the window and sat down, trying to look as calm as he could.

The door opened and he stood quickly to greet her. Miss King entered, wearing a pretty, yet simple dress in a delicate rose shade that drew out the healthy, hearty colour in her cheeks. He supposed she must have come from King farm on foot, and she seemed to have brought all the freshness of the brisk day inside with her. She smiled warmly in greeting. 

“Mr Boldwood! What an unexpected pleasure your invitation was!”

“Miss King, the pleasure is all mine.” He replied, inclining his head politely. As Cavendish pulled the drawing room door closed, William swept a hand to indicate to Miss King her seat, which she took. “You look very well today.” He said, taking his own seat.

“So do you sir, you look very smart in fact.” she said, and she did seem to be observing his outfit. He hoped she didn’t mean that he seemed overdressed, given that she didn’t yet realise it was a special occasion, but he felt buoyed by the compliment nonetheless. That was a promising way to start. “Is that the waistcoat I rescued at Christmas?” she asked

“It is.” he answered. “And I am very grateful to you for rescuing it. It is my best one.” He gave her what he hoped was a fairly natural looking smile, as he poured them each a cup of tea.

“Well it’s such a handsome thing, it would have been a shame to let it go to ruin.”

“Indeed.” his right hand performed a fragment of its pattern from before - a pat of the pocket (more specifically - the ring box in the pocket), and an adjustment of the cuff, before he poured a splash of milk into his teacup and passed her the jug. He found it hard to meet her eye, and was worried by how flustered he felt already. Granted, proposals had not historically been his strong suit, but one would think that by the third time, one would at least have gotten the hang of the asking.

“Did Mary and the children make it back to Bristol safely?” Miss King asked, helping herself to a teaspoon of sugar.

He forced himself to meet her eyes as he replied. “Oh yes, I had a letter from her yesterday to say they made it back in one piece, though the children - Emmy in particular - mourned their leaving something terrible. Particularly the loss of their new friend.”

“Oh what dears! I’m sure they will cheer up at seeing their old play-friends again though?”

“Oh yes certainly.” William answered. He realised he had not touched his tea, and hastily raised the cup to his lips. The tea was far too hot and he took too deep a gulp, burning the inside of his mouth, but he did not wince or grimace. A familiar silence settled on the pair of them and William felt his heart begin to race. This was the time to ask.

“Miss King. I must confess, I had a reason for inviting you here today.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I-” he cleared his throat, his burnt mouth feeling incredibly dry. “Well. Let me begin by saying that I thoroughly enjoyed the time that Mary and the children spent here, and your company was no small part of that enjoyment.”

Miss King’s eyes widened a little and he watched a faint blush spread across her high cheekbones. Did she already know what he was going to say?

“I hope that you feel likewise,” he continued quickly, “and that you have also enjoyed the opportunity to explore the house and the grounds. What do you make of them?”

She furrowed her brows a little, as if bemused by his question. “Of the house and grounds? Why they are very handsome indeed Mr Boldwood, and well-maintained. Beautiful, in fact. You are clearly a man of refined taste.” she said with a slightly cocked smile. 

“Well, thank you. That is gratifying to hear from such a sensible, honest young woman as yourself.” he answered with a smile. He hesitated. “I wondered whether you might, perhaps, wish to spend a little more time here in future? Well...perhaps...much more time?”

“Sir…?” She asked, clearly not catching his meaning.

“All your time, actually.” he said hurriedly. It occurred to him suddenly that he had never before done a proposal properly, with all the associated ritual. Well, this time he would. And this time he would be successful. He sank from his chair to one knee by the tea table. Miss King’s eyes widened again and the blush that had spread her cheeks a moment before vanished as her face paled. He took one of her hands in both of his and forced his eyes to meet hers.

“You are a kind, witty, and wise lady Miss King, and a dear friend. Any young man would be lucky to be able to call you his. I’m aware that I’m not a young man any more, but I would look after you, you would never want for anything. You could be lady of all this.” he cocked his head to indicate the room and house. “We would be content together.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring box, opening it and presenting her the ring - the same one, in fact, that he had planned to offer Bathsheba. Well it was about time the ring was redeemed as well as the day. With his eyes fixed on hers, he said “Marry me, Miss King.”

Miss King did not answer immediately, simply staring down at him with wide eyes, as though he had spoken to her in another language. Her voice was trembling as she said “I-...you...pardon?” 

“Marry me.” he repeated. He could feel his hand shaking as he held the ring, and hoped she couldn’t tell.

“I-...well this is...gosh it is...unexpected…” she seemed to struggle with her words.

His stomach lurched in a way that was both unpleasant and terribly familiar. “I see. Of course. Of course.” he dropped his eyes to the carpet and took a deep breath, feeling the sinking sensation that he had felt before. “I understand. Of course I do. Please accept my sincere apologies Miss King.” He went to stand but Miss King stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“No!” She exclaimed. He looked up at her face. “I mean yes.”

He couldn’t make sense of her words. Her brown eyes were wide and shining, drilling into him. “I don’t understand.” he said.

“Yes. I _will_ marry you.” 

As quickly as his heart had dropped, it leapt again, feeling as though it wanted to beat its way out of his chest. “You will?” he asked again, not entirely certain that he had understood her correctly.

“Yes, of course!”

Relief flooded his body, and he felt as though his limbs had been suddenly removed, but his face broke into a wide smile. “Wonderful.” he said reverently. Then, “Give me your hand.” 

She extended her left hand to him, and he took it in his right, looking into her smiling eyes as he slipped the diamond ring onto her fourth finger. As an afterthought, he pressed his lips gently against her soft knuckles. That was what suitors did, yes? He wasn’t sure, he was a little out of practice. But she smiled softly at him as he rose to his feet and returned to his chair. His head was spinning; he wasn’t entirely convinced that this wasn’t a dream. He - William Boldwood - was going to be married. Well, he couldn’t be certain of that yet, but someone had agreed to marry him at last. _At last!_ Lord what a relief! All being well he would never have to go through that again. At that moment it didn’t matter to him that their marriage was born of convenience. He didn’t care one iota whether she loved him or the house. Nothing mattered except the fact that he would no longer be alone.

He laughed shakily as he sat down. “Well Miss King, I’m glad the difficult part is done with.”

She returned his laughter. “Yes, with any luck at least. And please, if we are to be man and wife, don’t you think you ought to get used to calling me Katherine?”

“Hmmm, Katherine...Katherine.” In his mind he tested out her full name - her _imminent_ full name - Mrs Katherine Boldwood. It had a pleasing sound to it, and his smile widened. “It feels a little odd but I’m sure I’ll get used to it. And I suppose you ought to start calling me William in return.”

“Alright, _William_. Lord, that will take some getting used to...” She laughed again, a bright, pleasing sound that seemed to lift the very air of the drawing room and demand reciprocation, which William was only too happy to give. As their mirth calmed, and they returned their attention to tea, Katherine suddenly slapped her hand to her head and exclaimed:

“Oh, I completely forgot!”

“Forgot what?” he asked, dumbly worrying for a moment that the thing she had forgotten was an already-existing fiance.

“I have something for you!” She stood up, searching with her left hand in the pleats of her skirt, and William remembered the night they had met, when she had miraculously produced the handkerchief which had rescued his waistcoat, then cocked her hip to show off the pockets sewn into her dress. She was full of surprises. A moment later she had retrieved whatever she had been looking for, and resumed her seat, keeping her hands under the table. 

“I was unsure about giving this to you when I arrived, though I wanted to mark the day. But I fear you have thoroughly outdone me on that count.” she said with a wry smile. “Nevertheless, happy Valentine’s day.” She brought her hands above the table and passed him a card. Mercifully, there was no poem printed on it, merely an elegant design of lace and flowers. He opened it to find two simple words:

_For William._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine and William settle in to their new engagement. William has an apology and a meeting to handle.

On Monday morning, a letter arrived at Lower Farm for Mr Boldwood. Cavendish handed it to him at the breakfast table, and he immediately recognised his sister’s neat hand in the address. He deftly slipped his butter knife into the fold of the envelope and extracted the letter. 

_Dear William,_

_I must wonder what I ever did to have been cursed with a brother like you. How inconsiderate of you to delay your proposal by a week so that your family are unable to celebrate with you! Nevertheless, allow me to express my sincerest joy at the news of your impending nuptials. Miss King is a dear girl and I am most pleased that I will soon have the privilege of calling her ‘sister’. I am also very glad that my dear brother will no longer be alone, but will have a partner who is, in every way, deserving of him. It was wonderful to see you two grow to know each other, and I have every faith in your lasting happiness. She brings out the best in you, William._

_Though I will write to her myself too, do pass on my very warmest congratulations to your fiancee. I know she will be delighted too._

_Yours sincerely,  
Mary_

_P.S. - Emmy is beside herself with excitement about the wedding, and cannot wait to be allowed to refer to Miss King as “Auntie Katherine”._

Boldwood smiled as he placed the letter beside the coffee pot. The reply had been highly anticipated, Mary being the first person he had written to almost the minute Katherine had left on Thursday evening. He of course already knew the match had Mary’s blessing, but being able to share his joy with his sister - even if her response was somewhat delayed by the post - seemed to strengthen his own contentment.

And he _was_ content. Extremely content. He had been engaged for four days and each morning he awoke and struggled to believe his own good fortune. To have made a good match this late in life was incredible, for he had been certain that no young woman with a modicum of sense would have wanted to marry a middle aged man such as himself. He had expected to have to settle for either a plain young woman with no sense but a great love of money, or an ugly old maid looking for a last resort. Yet somehow, he was engaged to marry a beautiful lady whose company he enjoyed and with whom he was friends. A lady whose kindness, intellect and wit surprised him daily. It seemed incredible to him that, a mere two months after the disastrous Christmas Eve party, when he had been convinced that nothing but misery and boredom lay in his future, he could be genuinely looking forward to the prospect of marrying a girl who was not Bathsheba Everdene. 

All that being as it was, William was not swept away with romantic notions this time around. He knew that Katherine had had offers from other men. Perhaps she had even had lovers before. He did not know (and did not care to ask) why she had stayed single until the age of twenty-six, but he was certain that his middle-aged charm was not the lure that had tempted her to accept a ring at last. Perhaps it was the freedom that his relative wealth afforded that had drawn her to him; perhaps it was merely the desire for status over her neighbours; most likely it was a combination of the two. Nevertheless, he was aware that the friendship they shared was true and sincere. He did not think so lowly of himself - or of Miss King - as to believe that she would fake that. No. No doubt to the ever-practical Katherine - as to William himself - it was merely that the benefits of making an advantageous match with a spouse whom you genuinely liked and respected were heavy enough to outweigh sentimental concerns about being ‘in love’.

And so it was with a light heart that William pulled on his coat and set out on the mile or so’s walk to King farm that Monday morning. It was a fresh, breezy day, the first hints of spring teasing at the branches of leafless trees with pale green buds. They had had the first lamb of the season on Lower Farm on Friday morning, and William knew that within a few weeks the entire country would burst into life, as it did every year. The lambing and calving would get underway, the first of the planting would begin, and the fields and hillsides of Weatherbury would be almost carpeted with daffodils and hellebores.

He arrived at the farm, as he and Katherine had agreed, at eleven o’clock sharp. Unlike previous occasions when he had been to King farm, this time he would be entering the house, and was surprised to feel himself rather nervous. Mind you, perhaps he had good reason to be nervous. He had acted quickly with his proposal, but he was keenly aware of the etiquette he had broken in charging ahead without asking Mr King’s permission to marry his daughter first. He was, of course, already acquainted with Mr King - them being neighbours in the same profession - and yet Mr Boldwood couldn’t shake the feeling that he was trying to make a good first impression.

As he crossed the yard to the front door, he ran a hand through his hair and beard, smoothing them into place. He adjusted his cravat and knocked smartly on the door, shuffling his weight and pulling out his pocket watch for a last check of the time, as he heard footsteps approaching from inside the house. A moment later the door opened and Katherine was smiling up at him.

“Good morning William!” she greeted him.

“Good morning Katherine. Am I on time?” he asked.

“Perfectly. Come in.” she stood back from the door and swept her arm back, and he stepped over the threshold. He bent to kiss her politely on the cheek as was already their customary greeting, and as he drew back she smiled reassuringly. “Don’t be nervous,” she whispered. “Papa likes you, and he knows me well enough to know that I know my own mind. He’s not upset.”

She had already told William this the previous day when they had been able to steal a quick word after church, but he couldn’t suppress the unpleasant jitters in his stomach nonetheless. He nodded but did not reply, and Katherine led him down the hall and into the sitting room, where her parents waited. 

When he entered the room, his first impression was that it was more rustic and tired-looking than he had expected. Mr. King sat in a threadbare armchair by the window. He was a tall man of about sixty, with broad shoulders and a weathered, ruddy face. His appearance was that of a man who had always been strong, but whose body was beginning to bend to the pressures of age. His wife, Mrs King was seated on a chaise in front of an overladen bookcase. She was of a similar age to her husband, short and full-figured, with large eyes and bright cheeks like her daughter.

As William approached, they rose to greet him. “Good morning Mr Boldwood.” Mrs King said, smiling warmly and beckoning him in. “Come in, sit down, sit down!” She directed him eagerly to the armchair opposite her husband, while Katherine sat on the chaise. “Can I get you anything? Some tea?”

“Yes, thank you.” he answered with what he hoped was a polite smile. He sat stiffly in the armchair as Mrs. King poured four cups of tea from a chipped teapot and handed them round. He tried not to notice Mr. King giving him an appraising look, choosing instead to catch his fiancee’s eye. Katherine smiled reassuringly at him again and he felt his confidence a little bolstered.

“Well Mr. Boldwood,” Mr King began, taking a cup of tea from his wife with a smile. “I’d be lying if I said I ever thought we’d meet like this, but here we are.” 

Boldwood didn’t know how to respond so he took a slow sip of his own tea to buy himself some time. Placing the cup on the saucer he cleared his throat and began, “Yes Mr. King, I suppose I have an apology to make. I acted in a rush and I confess, I didn’t put enough thought into-”

“No need to apologise, sir.” Mr King cut him off. “Love makes fools of us all often enough.” the older man chuckled amiably at him, but William’s stomach clenched uncomfortably at the man’s use of the word ‘love’. 

“Yes.” he answered, shuffling in his seat. “I suppose that’s true enough.”

“Besides,” Mr King continued, “my Katherine is no silly young girl who needs protecting, as I’m sure you know.” He looked fondly at his daughter. “She knows her own mind. If she wants to marry you, she’ll do it whether I give my permission or not.”

William felt his mouth twitch into a smile. That certainly tallied with his own observations of Katherine. He relaxed into his seat a little, the obvious source of anxiety now, if not entirely dismissed, certainly deflated. “She’s a remarkable young lady.” he agreed, causing Katherine to blush and dip her gaze, and her mother to beam with pride.

The rest of the morning was passed comfortably enough, as Mr Boldwood and Mr King talked easily about their other common ground - farming. Although these days, he did very little of the practical work around Lower Farm, William was knowledgeable about agriculture and had been far more hands-on when he was a younger man, so they found they had plenty to talk about. As the morning drew on towards afternoon, Mrs King managed to persuade him to stay for a spot of lunch, over which she quizzed him about his family, his childhood, and his history. He managed tolerably well to navigate the questions without saying anything too incriminating.

Only coming up on half past one, was William allowed to say his goodbyes to the Kings, claiming some important business that needed to be taken care of back at the farm. Katherine saw him to the front door.

“I would offer to walk back with you, but no doubt mother and father will be dying to dissect the whole meeting.” she murmured with a sigh as they stood in the open doorway. 

“Of course,” he gave her a stiff half-smile. “I hope I made a good impression.” 

“You were wonderful William, as usual.” He flushed but his smile widened.

“Well, let us hope your parents agree.” He replied. “Now, I really do need to get going.” He bent and placed a farewell kiss on her cheek. As he put on his hat and stepped outside he asked “Would you care to join me for a spot of lunch tomorrow? Perhaps a walk in the afternoon?”

“That sounds delightful William. Shall I come round for one o’clock?”

“Perfect.” He grinned at her and waved goodbye as he set off back towards Lower Farm, a lightness in his step that Katherine was not accustomed to seeing.

~

Katherine King could not believe her luck. She had been engaged for two weeks, and every morning of those two weeks she had awoken and had to stare at the ceiling for a few minutes and remind herself that she wasn’t dreaming. She was going to be married. To Mr. Boldwood. To kind, gentle, sweet, clever, handsome Mr Boldwood, with whom she was thoroughly in love. She was going to be sister to Mary, and aunt to Miles and Emily. She would live at Lower Farm, a mere mile away from her parents, and have all the comfort she could ever desire and then some. 

Her change in circumstances had, of course, been highly unexpected. When she had resolved in the early hours of Valentine’s day to persist in trying to win Mr Boldwood’s affections, she had not expected the note that arrived not two hours later requesting her presence at tea. Even with the arrival of the note, she had not imagined that he had meant anything more by it than tea. Yet, that evening she had gone home with a ring on her finger and a wedding to plan. She could scarcely believe it, it had all happened so fast, but she was very much looking forward to - as Mr Boldwood had put it - spending much more time with him.

Two weeks in, and Katherine was already spending rather a lot of her time at Lower Farm. Most days since their engagement, she had been invited round for tea or a walk (or both), although William had come to King farm a couple of times as well. Much to Katherine’s relief, her parents approved heartily of the match - especially so after being invited to dinner in the manor house - and neither held any soreness about Mr Boldwood’s sidestepping of propriety in asking her without consulting Mr King, perhaps due in part to the gentleman’s age, perhaps in part his wealth. Mr King was very pleased to receive Mr Boldwood’s advice on all things farm-management, and Mrs King was brimming with relief and satisfaction that her daughter would not - as she had feared - die an old maid or have to move far away to be married. 

As well as lunches, teas and dinners, Katherine and William had very quickly fallen back into the pattern of the country walks that they had come to enjoy during Mary’s visit. They were very fortunate that the season was unusually mild and dry, and Katherine enjoyed the time spent in William’s company outdoors more than any other time with him. He was much freer away from the house, and the staff. They talked more easily here than anywhere else, and always had the topic of nature to fall back on, or smooth over conversational bumps - though these were becoming increasingly rare. They had plenty to discuss with a wedding to plan, after all.

Their walks also gave Katherine an opportunity to enjoy some subtle physical proximity to her husband to be. The day after their engagement, they were walking round the park after a spell of rain and Katherine had slipped - would have fallen had it not been for William’s quick reflexes. Thereafter, he offered his arm when they were out walking, and Katherine found that she never did get tired of holding on to him, feeling the warmth from his side and the firm, sureness of his support. Once, when she thought she could get away with it, she had even given his arm a testing squeeze, just to see how he felt. She didn’t think he had noticed, but the thrill of it made her blush furiously under her hat and she had had to duck her face away, feigning interest in a highly uninteresting flower.

Since the engagement, Katherine had also been corresponding frequently with Mary. The very day after William had proposed, Katherine had sent a letter to tell her friend of her change in circumstances, and had received a reply the following Monday, which had read:

_Dearest Katherine,_

_I cannot express my delight at this turn of events. Of course, knowing how you felt for my brother, I had hoped that this would be the eventual course of things, but I must confess I had not expected it quite so soon._

_I know you must suspect some involvement on my part in the proposal, so allow me to set your mind at ease. I no more meddled in William’s actions than I did in your own. I will confess that I suspected some mutual regard, and may have - as I did in your own case - encouraged some continuation of the friendship between the two of you after my departure. However, as you asked, I did not breathe a word about your feelings for him and, though I wished it, I did not know he intended to propose at any point. I am immensely pleased that he did, but I’m afraid I had no part in, or foreknowledge of, it._

_I am only filled with regret that I departed a week too early to celebrate with you both in person. However, I hope to return to Weatherbury with the children for a week or so around Easter, and very much look forward to congratulating you both in person._

_Yours,  
Mary._

_P.S.- Emmy would like me to offer her services as a flower-girl at the wedding._

Katherine had taken great joy from this letter, and had immediately written back to assure Emmy that her services would be much appreciated. 


	9. Epiphany the second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William and Katherine get an unexpected invitation

The weeks passed, and William and Katherine settled on a date for their wedding. They chose the last weekend in May, in order to make it easy for Mary, Frederic and the children to attend. They had precious few other considerations to make for guests, since neither of them had hosts of friends who would be expecting invitations. Katherine had asked Mary to be her bridesmaid, knowing how much that would please William, since Mary and her family were the only relatives he had left. Beyond that, their guest list was likely to consist of Katherine’s parents, some of William’s employees, and a few of the local girls with whom Katherine was friendly.

As they got into the planning in earnest, it occurred to William that it had been a while since he had been to a wedding. He had declined the invitation to Bathsheba’s wedding to Troy, and before that he couldn’t remember the last wedding he was even invited to. He supposed it must have been Mary and Frederic’s, but that was ten years ago. Katherine too, had been to one or two local weddings but that was the extent of it. However, one morning in March, an invitation arrived in the post at Lower Farm that would give them both the opportunity to rectify that soon.

_TO MR. WILLIAM BOLDWOOD AND FIANCEE_

_YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO THE WEDDING OF MR GABRIEL OAK AND MRS BATHSHEBA TROY._

_25TH APRIL, 2PM, PARISH CHURCH OF ST. JOHN THE DIVINE, WEATHERBURY._

_WE HOPE YOU WILL JOIN US FOR A CELEBRATION AFTERWARDS, IN THE BARN OF EVERDENE FARM._

_PLEASE RSVP AT YOUR EARLIEST CONVENIENCE_

William had stared at the invitation for a while when it had arrived. Of course they would be getting married. That was obvious. He knew that. He hadn’t really given much thought to whether or not he would be invited to the wedding. Perhaps they had only invited him out of politeness, perhaps he ought to decline. But if he declined, perhaps that would look as though he was upset about their wedding…

As he sat thus musing in the drawing room, nestled deep in his plushest armchair with the invitation in his lap, there was a knock on the door, and Katherine entered.

“Good morning William, are you well today?”

He roused himself from his thoughts. “Morning Katherine, yes quite well thank you.” he replied.

“You don’t seem it.” she said, looking curiously at him. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. “William dear, has something happened?” she asked, sitting on the couch opposite him.

“Not exactly...just a...an unexpected letter arrived.” 

Her expression shifted into one of concern. “Oh? Is it Mary? Is everyone alright?”

“No no, nothing to do with Mary, everyone is fine. It’s nothing of great importance Katherine, honestly.”

She fixed him with a stern look that plainly said ‘tell me now.’

He sighed. “Here.” he handed her the invitation. She took it and wordlessly read it, her expression shifting to one of understanding as she saw the names.

“Ah. I see.”

“Yes.”

“You’re unsure about whether to accept?”

“It’s...complicated.”

Katherine sat back for a moment and held her silence. After a long pause, she said “William, I know some of what passed between yourself and Mrs Troy, but little more than idle gossip. I...I hate that I’m even asking this question but...do you still feel...the same about her?”

William thought for a moment, aware that a dishonest response given in haste to deflect upset was likely to cause more harm in the long term. Did he still have feelings for Bathsheba? Eventually, after a moment of self-reflection, he said honestly, “No. I don’t. Not at all.”

Katherine let out a breath that she had been holding. “I believe you William, I didn’t think you did. Then why the agitation over the wedding invitation?”

“I...it is hard to explain...as I say, what happened was complicated, it could take a lot of telling.”

“I want to know, William. We have nowhere else to be, do we?”

He studied her face for any hint of artifice or anger, but could find only curiosity and concern.

“Fine. I suppose you have a right to know,, as my future wife.” He shuffled again in his chair and crossed his legs. “As you probably already know, I proposed to Mrs Troy twice. The first time, in my defence, she sent me a valentine card stamped with “Marry Me” so I can hardly be blamed for...for getting a little carried away, though I confess I acted far too rashly. It transpired that the card had been...a joke. Between friends.”

He met her eyes, and saw pity in them. It made his stomach turn, but he forced himself to keep going.

“After that...when she married Sergeant Troy...I confess I behaved abominably poorly. My wounded pride would not allow me any rest, and I believe I caused her a great deal of pain with my conduct. And then, after her husband’s death, I decided - far too soon - to press my suit again. I believe I thought that if she would only agree to marry me then I could undo the first humiliation and win back my pride. She was vulnerable and I knew it and I...I believe now - looking back I mean - that I took advantage. She did not have the courage or...perhaps the strength to rebuff me again, and so she delayed me, promising an answer by Christmas. Well, one day in October she came to me to tell me that my offer was very kind, but she didn’t…”

He paused, flushing with shame. Katherine reached out to pat his knee sympathetically, but he jerked away defensively. “She didn’t love me. She loved Gabriel Oak. My best - in fact my only friend, whom I had been telling for months that I would soon be engaged to Bat-Mrs Troy. Whose own feelings I had known about yet utterly disregarded out of pure selfishness. And...that was that.”

There was silence between them for a long moment. Katherine was the first to break it. “I think I understand now. You don’t still love her, but you are embarrassed - ashamed - of how you went about it all, yes?”

He met her eyes again. The pity was gone, he could find only kindness there. “Yes,” he answered, feeling some relief settle on him that she had understood. “Yes that’s exactly it. I don’t want to make anyone feel awkward with my - our - presence, especially if we were only invited for propriety’s sake. But...I’d also hate for either of them to think I bear them any ill will. I have nothing but respect for Mrs Troy, and Oak is a dear friend. I truly do wish them happiness.”

“That makes sense, William. Would you like my advice?”

He nodded.

“We should go. The Oaks will be our neighbours, and Gabriel your friend. This is as good a chance as any to build bridges.”

He sighed quietly. “Yes I suppose you’re right. But...what if it’s awkward?”

“To be honest William, it probably will be a little awkward at first. But you won’t have to go alone, and it will be worth it to have your friends back, don’t you think?”

He thought for a second, then agreed. “Thank you Katherine. How are you so much wiser than I when I have fourteen years on you?” he teased, with a tight smile. She laughed.

“Perhaps I haven’t had as much time to form bad habits.”

~

The day of Gabriel and Bathsheba’s wedding arrived and, as they had agreed, William and Katherine were in attendance. They sat together on the side of the church reserved for the groom’s friends and family, turned out in their best clothes. As they watched the ceremony, William found his thoughts drifting to the future. His future, just a month from that day, when he and Katherine would stand in the same place, before the altar, and speak the same words to each other. How was Gabriel feeling? How would _he_ feel on that day? Nervous? Excited? Scared? Content? He felt all of those feelings already, and found it hard to imagine how much more intense they could get. But judging by the smile on his friends’ faces as they pledged themselves to each other, William and Katherine would be hard-pressed to surpass their joy.

As the organ began to play, the newly wedded Mr and Mrs Oak walked arm in arm down the aisle and the congregation clapped and cheered. William watched them go, and found not a shred of wounded pride left within him. He was only happy for them, glad that they had both found such happiness together. Lord knew they had been through enough, they deserved at least this and much else besides.

After the ceremony, the guests made their way down the lane and into the barn of Everdene Farm. The usually dingy building had been scrubbed clean and set with two long tables, on which were laid innumerable wildflowers, strewn through with candles to cast a soft light on the guests. The couple had laid on a spread of roast meats, vegetables from their own farm, and a generous provision of libations for the guests, many of whom had also brought their own. William chose seats for himself and Katherine near the end of one of the tables, pulling out her chair for her as they sat down.

“Well, Katherine, what did you make of the ceremony?” he sat beside her. “Did you pick up any ideas?” he teased.

“It was perfectly lovely William, as I’m certain our own will be.” She answered. “Though, we must choose different hymns.” They both laughed.

“Consider it noted.” She took his hand, and he smiled at her. His romantic side must be being drawn out by the atmosphere he thought, for he couldn’t stop picturing Katherine by his side at a very similar party, though this time in a wedding dress of her own. 

The bride and groom arrived shortly after, Gabriel made a brief speech (ever a man of few words, thought William with a smile) and at last all tucked in to dinner, the wine being poured liberally by Jan Coggan, who was sat to Katherine’s left. 

William was very pleasantly surprised to find himself having a thoroughly excellent evening, not a smidge of awkwardness felt. Perhaps it was the atmosphere or perhaps the glass of wine that Jan Coggan insisted on frequently refilling, but he felt relaxed - happy - enjoying the company of Katherine, and his neighbours and acquaintances. It was good to see her out like this, around others. It showed him a side of her that he rarely saw when they were on their own. She was witty, and not afraid to trade jab for jab with anyone but never shaken by any of it. She truly was an excellent conversationalist, endlessly interested in everything that everybody had to say. William spent much of the evening silently watching her, envious of her ease with everybody, no matter their rank. How did she do it? Once or twice, she caught him watching her, and a faint blush crossed her cheek that puzzled him.

The meal drew to a close and the guests were asked to temporarily vacate the barn, except for a chosen few of whom Katherine and William were not two. They were milling around in the yard in the setting sun with the other guests, waiting for whatever was happening inside to be over, when William noticed Katherine was shivering. 

“Are you cold?”

“A little, but I’ll be fine.”

He would have offered her his jacket or a woolen coat if he had one but as it was he had only his tailcoat. He paused a moment, before stripping it off anyway and wrapping it around her shoulders. She smiled gratefully at him. “My goodness Mr Boldwood, isn’t it a little early in the evening to be in your shirtsleeves?” she teased. He chuckled. “No but really, won’t you get a chill?”

“I’m perfectly warm, don’t fret.” he answered with a smile and a reassuring pat on the shoulder. It was the truth, though only perhaps because he was rather ahead of her in the wine stakes. In fact he was feeling a little unsteady on his feet. Perhaps he ought to slow down, he thought.

Just then, the door to the barn was flung wide again, and the call came from within to reenter. The barn had been transformed once again. The flowers that had decked the tables had been moved to the walls, and the space where the tables had been was left clear as a dance space. Seating was provided on various barrels, hay bales, benches and the like around the edges of the barn, and at the far end was a band, striking up the first tune.

“Well Katherine,” William began as they went back inside and she handed him his tailcoat. “I believe you owe me a dance?”

“Do I?” 

“Since you turned me down at my own Christmas party?” He looked appraisingly at the tailcoat before tossing it over a nearby barrel, opting to stay in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat for a while. “I trust you have at least grown fond enough of me since our engagement not to knock me back again tonight?” he asked, surprising himself as he waggled his eyebrows to show that he was teasing her. 

“Well…I suppose I could perhaps stretch to one dance…” she answered, a cheeky spark in her own eye. William bowed graciously, offering her his hand and leading her onto the dancefloor amid the other couples forming. It transpired that William was not the best dancer after this much wine, and neither was Katherine, but they managed tolerably well, laughing the whole time as they bumped into each other, but only running into another couple once.

The end of the dance came, but swiftly followed by another and then another. After the third dance, William declared that he was an old man and needed a rest, and so they sat in the corner where William had abandoned his tailcoat. He was thirsty, the temperature rising in the barn with the candles and dancing. As though she had read his mind, Katherine said.

“Would you like a drink William?”

“Certainly, but I should be the one fetching drinks for you!”

“Ah, no fetching required in this case!” Katherine answered with a grin, dipping her hand into her skirt pocket (what a wonder those were) and pulling out a half-bottle of whiskey.

“Miss King, have you had that in your pocket all evening?” he said, with faux-outrage.

“I should hope so, or I would be more concerned about where I had gotten it from!” They both laughed as Katherine opened the bottle and passed it to William, who took a small gulp - just enough to coat the inside of his dry mouth and throat, then passed it back. His head felt wooly, his limbs warm and a little less solid than was their habit, but he was happy. He wanted to keep dancing, but when he suggested it to Katherine, she said kindly that perhaps they ought to sit a while longer to recover from the first three. They could go back up for the next one. He reluctantly agreed, but shuffled closer to her on the bench, so that his left arm and leg were nearly touching hers. They talked as they watched the other couples, though William was unsure what exactly about. He was back to thinking about their own fast approaching wedding.

For the rest of the evening, they alternated between clumsy dancing and periods of rest and chat in the corner, swigging occasionally from Katherine’s bottle and scarcely speaking to another soul at the dance. Eventually, though, the hours drew on and the numbers in the barn dwindled as, one by one, guests made their excuses and wandered out into the night.

“William,” Katherine said. He drew his eyes back to meet hers with some difficulty. They seemed to be moving out of step with his brain. “It’s late. I need to be going home.”

William took out his pocket watch, dropped it, then picked it up again and opened it with a click. It was indeed late - getting on for eleven o’clock.

“I suppose it is, but the party’s still going? The band are still playing!” 

“Barely! William dear, I’m tired and I need to be up early in the morning to help mama with writing our invitations.”

William suppressed a hiccough. “Yes, alright I suppose that’s fair. But I won’t let you walk home alone this late at night. Who knows what sorts of...va-vagabonds and _ruffians_ you could run into on the road.” he said, rolling his r on the word ruffians and grinning. Katherine rolled her eyes but smiled at him.

“At this rate, you’re the one who needs someone to walk them home, but alright William. Come on.” She stood, then took a hold of his arm to help him up. She released his arm once he was standing, gave him his tailcoat to put back on for the walk, and they slipped out of the barn without a word of goodbye to anyone, the hosts of the wedding having long since retired to a more private setting. However, once outside, William offered her his arm again and she took it. The cold night air sobered him up a little, and he told himself it was only gentlemanly to support a lady who had had several drinks, but in all honesty he was more in need of the support than she was, as they made slow progress up the lane, bumping shoulders frequently.

“Do you know what, Katherine dear?” He slurred, as they passed the church of St John the Divine, where Bathsheba and Oak had been joined that afternoon, and where they themselves would soon become husband and wife.

“What?”

“I think-” he paused to swallow another hiccough. “I think that I thoroughly enjoyed myself this evening.”

She laughed. “I’m glad, William.”

“I didn’t think I would. I thought I would feel awkward and embarrassed, but I had you and it was all fine. I didn’t have to stand alone in a corner, sulking.”

“Since when do you sulk?”

“Did you not see me at Christmas? I’m told I scared off practically all the young women in the county with my scowling!”

She laughed. “Well, I suppose you were a little dour... but, clearly you didn’t scare me off! Though I will admit, it’s very nice to see you smile so much these days.” She smiled warmly at him, placing her free hand on his arm.

He smiled back at her, though her face was dim in the moonlight and he struggled to bring her features back into focus. He supposed it was the effects of the drinks, but as he walked with her he felt...warm...yes that was it. Although his limbs felt sluggish, his whole body was diffused with a warmth that seemed to radiate from his chest. In fact he felt a decade younger, or more. That was probably the last time he had been drunk, now that he thought about it. 

As they were looking at each other, William caught his foot on a stone, and would have ended up on the ground if Katherine hadn’t had such a good grip on his arm. As it was, he stumbled badly, and she had to catch him and haul him upright again. She laughed out loud, and to his surprise, he laughed with her. 

“William my love, I think we really ought to watch where we walk, or one of us is going to do ourselves - or the other - a mischief.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be more careful.” He tried to stand as straight as he could, but succeeded only in looking very stiff and scarecrow-like, which only made Katherine laugh the more, before they continued their walk to King farm.

“I suppose we’ll have to invite them to our own wedding now.” Katherine said, as they passed the fork in the lane that would have taken them to Lower farm. 

“Hmm? Yes I suppose we will.”

“Do you mind?”

“Do I mind?”

“Having Bathsheba and Gabriel there?”

“Not at all.” William answered, and he meant it. “He’s my friend and she...well she’s just Mrs Oak now. Anyway, we were, how did you put it? _Building bridges_ today.”

Katherine did not answer him, and he felt as though he ought to say something more, but his mind was dulled with the alcohol and he struggled to find the proper words. They walked along in silence for a little until they could see the dim shadow of King farm just ahead. William finally said:

“I truly don’t have any hurt feelings about that whole affair any longer, Katherine. I did. But as I sat there today, all I felt was happy. To be honest, I was looking forward to our own wedding. I could hardly stop thinking about it.”

Again, Katherine held her silence. He couldn’t make out her face in the darkness, but he waited for her to speak. 

“Do you really mean that William?”

“Of course I do. You’re a fine woman, Katherine - witty and kind and strong and beautiful - and I’m looking forward to our life together. Truly.” He patted her hand affectionately as they passed into the yard and stopped outside the Kings’ front door. 

“Well...goodnight Katherine.” he said, feeling every inch like an awkward young man again. He mused once more on how odd it was to feel so young at his age, not just the lightness of heart and limb, but the uncertainty. The self-consciousness that he thought age had stripped him of. He stood here, forty years of age yet embarrassed to say goodnight to a woman. A friend. His fiancee.

After a moment’s hesitation, he bent to kiss her cheek as he always did when they parted, but his lips did not find her cheek. She turned her face and met his lips with her own, winding her hands into the lapels of his coat and pressing herself against him, as his hands instinctively found her waist. His heart was pounding, drumming in his chest so loudly that he was sure she could hear it. She could probably feel it through the fabric of his suit. The soft, warm glow that had suffused his body from the wine seemed to grow and spread right to the tips of his fingers and toes, becoming a furnace that gathered and roared in his stomach.

And then she had pulled away.

Without another word to him, Katherine turned and went inside. He stood, paralysed, staring numbly at her closed front door as his head spun. 

And then he realised.

Oh, he was such a fool.

He loved her.

This was no marriage of convenience between friends. He was in love with Katherine King.

He felt panic rise in his throat, as he turned and walked swiftly back the way they had come. All the dimness of drunkenness had been burned away by that kiss, barely a few seconds of time, yet everything was changed.  
And yet nothing was changed. He had loved her for a while, he saw that now. Since Valentine’s day at least, but almost certainly longer. Oh! How could he have so thoroughly deceived himself? He actually laughed aloud at his own foolishness. To think that he truly believed himself merely interested in marrying for comfort’s sake. That he could have mistaken his feelings so profoundly was genuinely laughable, and yet he had done it. 

And why had he done it? Because he was terrified. Because if he loved her, then she could hurt him. While they were merely friends in a mutually beneficial arrangement, well, there was a certain safety afforded by distance. But love? No, in William’s experience, love was more often the thorn than the rose. 

In this case, as always before, his refusal to recognise his own feelings had led him into almost certain heartache. For he was sure that Katherine did not love him. Katherine truly _was_ marrying a friend for the sake of convenience. Katherine did not desire him, certainly did not love him. She was merely looking to make a good match, he knew. 

A little voice in the back of his mind did protest that it was Katherine who had kissed him tonight, but he brushed that voice aside easily. He would not fool himself with false hope again. Katherine was doing what she thought was expected of her as his wife-to-be. He felt guilt settle in his stomach like a heavy stone. Had she felt pressured to kiss him by his own hesitation? His discomfort? His own feelings which had been so obvious, drunk as he was? He was shocked by his own behaviour and flirtations that night, Lord!

Did Katherine know?


	10. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William tries to make sense of the events of that night, while Katherine finds her world turned upside-down.

William passed the night uncomfortably. Sleep was elusive, and he tossed and turned, feeling the counterpane around and upon him like a straitjacket. His dreams, fitful and interrupted as they were, were filled with Katherine. He saw her face in the darkness, and he dreamed of the feeling of her touch on him; he dreamed of kissing her, properly, as her husband, no longer hampered by matters of propriety. He dreamed she was there beside him, in his bed, and when he woke with the dawn to find himself alone and covered in a thin layer of sweat, guilt and shame settled like a stone in the pit of his stomach.

He lay in the damp sheets watching the pale morning light grow to the east, and attempted to tease out his thoughts. He was terribly confused by what had passed between them the night before. His mind whirled with questions, and he couldn’t make sense of why she would kiss him like that. Something had been different between them, he had felt it - clouded though his mind had been. He had felt such a force of warmth and affection for her, such a magnetic pull towards her, that it astonished him that he could ever have thought these feelings simply a friendly regard. 

And that kiss they had shared at the end of the night. He felt as though that moment had been stamped across his skin; he could almost still feel where she had pressed against him the night before. Lord how he longed to kiss her like that again. Every day. Constantly. 

But he needed to exercise some restraint. He would do well to remember that though _his_ feelings for Katherine were more tender than he had supposed, he had no reason to believe she returned them. Every step of the way he had been the one to extend invitations, to continue the acquaintance along, to press for marriage. While she hadn’t objected, and had certainly seemed eager to make the match, he had seen precious little to lead him to believe that she harboured much more than friendly affection and respect for him. No, the kiss was very likely an attempt to behave how she felt a fiancee ought, rather than any expression of love or desire.

William sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing his face roughly. He ought to get a hold of himself, he thought. Katherine was due round at eleven with the finished invitations so that they could confirm the final guest list and send them out. By the time she arrived, he would be fresh, groomed and calm, the shameful imaginings that had so possessed him in the night pushed aside. He rang the bell for Cavendish, and when his valet arrived - looking bleary-eyed at the early hour - asked him to draw him a bath.

~

By the time eleven rolled around, William was bathed, shaved, and feeling much calmer as he sat in the drawing room waiting for Katherine, a pot of tea for two laid out on the table. He was pretending to read a book on horticulture, though his ears were pricked for the sound of her arrival and his fingers tapped rhythmically on his knee. But as the minutes ticked by and no doorbell sounded, he began to become uneasy again. Quarter past eleven came and went, then half past, and doubts started to creep back into William’s head, though he tried to distract himself by focussing on his book. While it wasn’t uncommon for Katherine to be a few minutes late - she often got held up by goings-on at King farm - half an hour was unheard of. 

William eventually put down the book, got to his feet, and began to pace, the action bringing back memories of Valentine’s Day, and the nerves he had felt then. What if she had changed her mind? Had his eagerness last night scared her away? The longer he waited the more convinced he was that she wouldn’t come at all. By a quarter to twelve, he gave up waiting for her and abandoned the drawing room altogether. He retired to his bedroom, flopping onto the bed fully dressed to stare at the ceiling and ruminate. The kiss the previous night had to have had something to do with it. Lord, what if he had done something wrong? Perhaps he shouldn’t have put his hands on her? Perhaps he should have held her more tightly? Perhaps he couldn’t have done anything different, and she had merely come to her senses and realised - just like Bathsheba - that marrying for love was better than marrying for comfort, convenience or wealth.

In this way he lay for the best part of an hour and a half, until, eventually, a ray of sense broke through his despair. He would find no answers lying here. If he wanted to know why Katherine had changed her mind, he would simply have to go and ask her himself. Acting on an impulse, he rose from the bed and hurried down the stairs, forgetting to even take his hat as he set off for Katherine’s house.

A quarter of an hour later, William found himself striding across the yard to the door of King farm. Without allowing a moment to second-guess himself or let his resolve waver, he raised his fist and knocked firmly on the door. The sound of feet hurrying down the hall drifted through the door, before it was flung wide and Katherine stood before him. She was clearly in a state of distress. Her hair was half-unpinned, her eyes red, and cheeks tear-stained.

“Mr Boldwood? What are you doing here?” she asked.

He was shocked by her appearance, and hesitated, his anger evaporating at the sight of her. “I- I expected you round at eleven, but you didn’t come or send word and so I thought...well I thought I’d…” he trailed off, rubbing his hands together awkwardly, not a hint of his steely resolve left.

She clapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh I’m so sorry William, with everything that’s been going on I completely forgot. Come in.”

He stepped awkwardly across the threshold. “What’s the matter?” he asked, as she shut the door behind him.

“It’s father. He…well come in and sit down.” She led him into the sitting room and sat down beside him on the chaise. 

“This morning, father went out to check on the lambs early - around sunrise. We were expecting him back for breakfast, but he didn’t come back, so I went out to call him in. And he was-” she broke off, tears choking her voice as William’s stomach dropped. He took her hand, wrapping it in both of his, leaving her the space to finish explaining. She squeezed his hand, taking a deep, steadying breath, before continuing.

“He was just lying there, on the ground. I thought he must be dead, and I screamed, and mother came running. She had more sense than me, and saw that he was still breathing. We had a battle bringing him inside, but he’s laid out on their bed now and he hasn’t woken and we’ve called the doctor and who knows if he’ll ever wake again and -” at this point her tears overwhelmed her, and the rest of her words were drowned in heavy, wracking sobs. William hesitated for a moment, but released her hand and instead wrapped his arm around her, drawing her to him on the chaise. She clung gratefully to him as she sobbed, and William was deeply ashamed to find memories of the way she had clung to his lapel the night before trying to force their way into his thoughts as he held her. He swept the thoughts aside, murmuring comforts as best he could while Katherine wept against his chest, her tears soaking his shirt. Just as she began to regain some composure, there came a knock at the front door.

“That will be the doctor.” Katherine said with a sniff, attempting to stand, but William had a hold of her hand and pulled her gently back down.

“You stay here, Katherine dear, I’ll deal with him.” She looked as though she wanted to argue, but her exhaustion won out, and she sank back on to the chaise as William stood and went to answer the door. 

If Dr. Thomas was surprised to see William open the door, he didn’t show it.

“Mr. Boldwood, good afternoon.” he said, business-like.

“Good afternoon doctor, please come in.” He stood back and the man stepped across the threshold. “Have you been filled in on the particulars?” William asked, leading the doctor towards the stairs. 

“Yes I believe so, sir.” 

“Excellent. Mrs King is with him upstairs and will be able to answer any questions far better than I.” Then, lowering his voice, “Doctor, may I make a small request before you see him?”

“Certainly.”

“Could you send any bills to Lower farm - to myself - rather than to the family? His wife and daughter have more than enough to be dealing with at the moment.” 

The doctor raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment further. “Of course.” William nodded gratefully, before directing Dr. Thomas upstairs to his patient. He then promptly returned to the sitting room, finding Katherine sitting where he had left her, her gaze distant and still. She looked up when he entered and smiled weakly at him.

“The doctor is with him now.” he said, crossing the room to rejoin her on the chaise. He sat down gently beside her and took her hand again. When she turned her face to him, he squeezed her hand softly.

“William, what if…?”

“Hush, there’s nothing good can come of asking that question. Let’s deal with things we can do something about, and in the meantime, you should do everything you can to keep your strength up. He needs you, and your mother needs you.”

Katherine’s eyes began to water again. “I don’t know how...I need...”

At that moment Mrs King entered. William stood up quickly, releasing Katherine’s hand. His guilt over the previous night and the dreams that had followed had made him suddenly self-conscious, but Mrs King seemed not to notice.

“Mr. Boldwood,” she said, “How did you know to come?”

“I didn’t. I just happened to stop in, though I’m very glad I did. How is he?”

“The same. The doctor sent me out while he looked him over.” She glanced fleetingly around the room and played with the edge of her sleeve as she spoke. She looked lost. 

He hesitated a moment, then went to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Come, Mrs King, sit down and rest.” He led her across to the armchair that Mr King had occupied on William’s first visit. He supported her elbow as she sat shakily down, then crouched before her. “Can I do anything for you? Can I fetch you a glass of water? Or a cup of tea?”

She shook her head but said nothing, tears gathering in her eyes. William thought it best to let her have a moment to herself, so he crossed back to Katherine, offering her his hand. She looked at it as though it was a foreign object, then turned questioning eyes to his own.

“Katherine, you need some fresh air. Will you come for a walk with me?”

“Oh.” She blinked. “Oh, yes alright.” 

She ignored his proffered hand as she stood, which stung him a little, though he didn’t show it. He turned back to her mother. “Apologies Mrs King, but I’m going to borrow your daughter for a while. Are you sure there’s nothing I can get for you?”

“Quite sure, thank you Mr Boldwood.” she answered, looking both exhausted and relieved.

William and Katherine made their way out of the house and into the yard. Normally he would have offered her his arm to hold, but after she had ignored his hand, he thought it best to allow her some space. They walked silently onto the road, but William quickly thought better of that. “Let’s walk across the fields.” he suggested. “You don’t want to run into anyone just now.”

Katherine nodded wordlessly, and they turned back, climbing the stile into the field and setting off north, towards the line of trees at the top of the hill. 

“William, can I hold your arm?” Katherine asked him quietly.

He smiled, a little flicker of warmth lighting in his chest. “Of course.” he held out his elbow and she tucked her arm into the crook of it, placing her free hand on his upper arm as they climbed.

They were quiet until they reached the crest of the hill. It was in this spot that William had stood deliberating at dawn on Valentine’s day, though Katherine didn’t know that. She was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked down at the farm.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about.” He asked softly.

She sighed. “I’m thinking about how the farm will go on. I _told_ father he needed to slow down and start making plans to retire. I said he ought to pass the management over to someone else, but he’s so damnably stubborn!” She shook her head. “But now I don’t know what we’ll do. I suppose figuring that out will fall to me; mother never was much good at the business side of things...” she trailed off, her gaze distant and unfocussed.

“Katherine, you don’t have to do it alone. You don’t have to do it at all if you don’t want to. Let me help.” He unhooked their arms and took her by the shoulders, turning her to face him and gently tilting her chin up so that her eyes met his. “Let me appoint a bailiff for the farm - I’ll pay him, you needn’t worry at all. I can manage the running of the place in the meantime.”

She frowned at him. “William you have your own farm to manage.”

“Everything at Lower Farm practically runs itself these days, I’m hardly pressed for time.”

“No, William.” she snapped, shrugging off his hands from her shoulders. “I’m going to do it myself, I only said I was worried.”

“And I can help with that worry! Katherine you’re marrying a rich man, why wouldn’t you make use of that?”

She scoffed and turned away from him. “How terribly mercenary of you! As I said before William, I _will_ do this myself. I know how to balance books, I know what needs to be done to keep the farm ticking over. Support - advice even - I will accept from you in the capacity of neighbour, expert and husband-to-be, but charity? Absolutely not.”

He was dumbfounded. “But Katherine!” he exclaimed. She didn’t acknowledge him. He paused, but no further counter to her argument arose, and she stood, hard as flint, facing away from him towards her own house. Finally he conceded defeat. “Alright. How _can_ I help? Today?”

She continued to stare at the house for so long that William began to worry that she was ignoring him altogether. Finally, she whispered hoarsely “Tell me that everything is going to be fine.”

He went quickly to her and wrapped both arms tightly around her. Katherine turned towards him and clung to him as forcefully as she had the night before - like a drowning woman clutching a life ring - and he tucked his chin on top of her head. “Everything is going to be fine.” he murmured, as he felt silent sobs wrack through her body, and rubbed her back reassuringly. “Sssh Katherine, my love.” he cringed inwardly as the endearment slipped out before he could stop himself, but she didn’t react to it. “I’m here. It will all be well.”

~

When they eventually returned to the house at around six o’clock, Dr. Thomas had left, and they found Mrs King in the kitchen, preparing vegetables for a pot of soup. The second they entered, she looked up.

“The doctor says he’ll live!” she proclaimed, relief streaming out of her. Boldwood felt a knot in his own chest loosen as Katherine ran to embrace her mother.

“Good news!” he said. “Does the doctor know what the cause is?”

Mrs King released her daughter, a little of her worry returning to her face. “He says it was an Apoplexy. It will be hard to know the extent of the damage until he wakes up, so Dr. Thomas said to send for him as soon as he does.”

“Thank heaven for small mercies.” Katherine muttered. Then, “Right mother, how can we help with dinner?

~

Late that evening, when a simple dinner of soup and bread had been had, William (very clumsily) made a pot of tea for the three of them and they sat at the kitchen table, talking. Their conversation was subdued, but a welcome change from the silence that had greeted him when he had arrived that afternoon. He found himself frequently losing the thread of the conversation because he was watching Katherine so intently, searching for any sign of a need that he could meet. His hands itched to take hers and stroke the soft skin of her palms, but even without her mother present, he wouldn’t have had the courage, so he settled for watching her long fingers as they stroked the delicate rim of her empty teacup. 

Eventually, the clock chimed nine and William noticed Katherine stifling a yawn. He knew she would never admit to being tired while he was still there - she was every inch as stubborn as her father - so he gave a great, exaggerated yawn himself, and declared that he ought to be heading home.

“Oh, must you?” Katherine asked, as he got to his feet. 

“I’m afraid so, I’m exhausted.” he lied easily. “But I promise, I’ll come back first thing in the morning. I want to be as much help as I can.”

“You could sleep here?” she suggested. He was wrong-footed, and blushed furiously at the implications, but Katherine had already turned to her mother. “I could make up the bed in Robert’s room?” 

“Oh yes, Mr Boldwood, do stay!” Mrs King agreed. “You’ve been such a help, I don’t know what we would have done without you today.”

He hesitated, but Katherine was looking up at him with eyes wide and pleading, and Lord knew he couldn’t refuse her this, especially after the day she had had. “Yes alright. If you want me to, I’ll stay.” 

So it was that half an hour later, he found himself lying in a narrow bed, under scratchy blankets in his drawers. Mrs King had laid out one of her husband’s nightshirts for him to wear, but William had been perturbed by the idea of wearing the man’s nightclothes without his express permission, so had opted to sleep in his own undergarments instead.

As he stared at the ceiling in the dark, his thoughts were directed about two feet beyond his head, through the wall in the next room where Katherine lay in her own bed. If he lay very still and quiet, he fancied he could hear her mattress creak as she shifted in her bed, or even the soft whisper of her breath. The thought was thrilling, conjuring up memories and impressions that seemed to leap into life in vivid colour before his eyes. The memory of Katherine’s hair shining silver in the moonlight as they walked back from the wedding (had that really been less than twenty-four hours ago?) morphed into the image of her hair spread across her pillow, separated from him by only a thin wall. It occurred to him that when they were married she might even sleep in his bed from time-to-time - though she would have her own bedroom at Lower Farm of course, and he would never press her to sleep beside him. Nevertheless, his treacherous body responded to this thought, and the dreadful guilt and shame flooded him once more. God he was like a teenager again, unable to master his own mind. With an angry huff, he rolled over in the bed and closed his eyes, trying (with precious little success) to think of anything but his love in the next room.


	11. Mayday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding is approaching fast, but with Mr King's illness to deal with alongside wedding preparations, Katherine and William have a lot on their plates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for being so slow to update! I've been crazy busy with work and studies the last few weeks. Thank you for sticking with this story for so long - we're on the home straight now!

Mr King awoke around lunchtime the next day, to the immense relief of all. He was confused, and had been left weak on his left side, which meant he was struggling to speak. However, after an initial examination, Dr. Thomas was optimistic that he would regain at least some of his strength, and hopefully make a good - if not total - recovery. Unfortunately, it was also abundantly clear that he would never return to running the farm the way he had before. And so, with Mrs King busy caring for her husband, it fell to Katherine to oversee the running of the place for the time being.

A week into the new arrangements and she was managing tolerably well with it all, due in large part to the help of her expert fiance, who had had to step into an odd sort of mentor role since Mr King had fallen ill. William spent most of every day at King farm, teaching Katherine the ins and outs of farm maintenance, helping her streamline the running of the farm so that her own workload would decrease, and (together with Mrs King) polishing and executing the plans for their impending wedding, now only a few weeks away. And, most importantly, making sure that Katherine’s own wellbeing was being watched over amongst all this.

For his part, William was very pleased to have both an excuse to spend so much time around Katherine, and so many distractions to stop him brooding over his feelings for her. On the rare occasions that he was alone, he thought only of Katherine and the time he had spent with her, which inevitably led to speculating about how she might feel about him, and then worrying about whether he was doing the right thing by allowing their wedding to go ahead if she might not know how he felt and almost certainly did not feel the same. 

But, when he was helping out on King farm, the days passed quickly and such concerns had little space or time in which to trouble him - he could simply sweep them aside and think “Katherine needs me at the moment - I’ll deal with that later”. Though, of course, he knew that he couldn’t keep avoiding it forever.

Exactly a week after Mr King had been taken ill, William was taking Katherine out of the house for a walk around the farm. This had become a daily ritual, come rain or shine, as he had quickly noticed that a day spent entirely indoors was, for Katherine, a recipe for misery and a short temper. It was early May, the afternoon was warm and bright, and they meandered arm in arm through the potato field, Katherine talking about wedding plans. William was only half listening. In his head, he was working out the best way to broach what he knew would be a tricky conversation. 

“...and so I said to mother that perhaps we ought to just see what flowers we can find in your flower garden instead - if that’s alright with you?”

“Hmmm?”

“Flowers, William. For the wedding?”

“Oh, yes. Yes of course, take whatever you need from the flower garden”

She smiled softly at him, gratified, and he felt the familiar, treacherous warmth bloom in his chest. She gently squeezed his arm while they walked, and he smiled back at her, his nerves tightening as he braced for what he was about to ask.

“So Katherine...about the wedding…”

“Yes?”

“I was just wondering whether....well whether you had given much thought to what is going to happen with the farm - your farm I mean - once we’re...well, once we’re married?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, and William could tell from the very slight edge that had crept into her tone that she knew exactly what he meant.

“Well, just that once you’re living at Lower Farm, it will be a lot less practical to manage the day-to-day maintenance of King farm.”

Katherine sighed, and turned her face away, and he felt a stab of sympathy for the immense weight she was carrying, as well as a pang of guilt that he was about to have to push this issue. He could see that the same concerns had occurred to her too.

“Yes, you’re right, of course.” she said wearily. “But William, I don’t know what to do about it. Mother couldn’t manage it on her own, even if she wasn’t having to care for my father, but with that on top I don’t know how she’ll manage.”

He took a deep breath. “Katherine, sweetheart, you need to hire a bailiff.”

“We can’t afford a decent bailiff, William.” she said shortly.

“Listen to me, Katherine.” he began. “A bailiff is an investment. Yes it may be expensive to hire a man at first but the returns will be worth it if the farm is being well-run.”

“William,” she answered in a tone of exasperation. “We can’t afford the investment.”

He placed his hand over the arm that was linked with his. “ _I_ can, Katherine. Please let me-”

“No William.” She cut him off, untangling their arms and setting her jaw stubbornly. “I said we weren’t a charity case, we won’t take your money.”

William stopped walking and laid a hand on Katherine’s elbow to stop her too, and she turned to face him. He exhaled slowly and scratched at his beard as he weighed his next words carefully. “Katherine.” he began, taking her hand and reaching out his other hand to cup her cheek and bring her eyes to meet his. He needed to make sure what he was about to say would reach her. Just this small act of affection was enough to make his heart beat wildly, but he ignored the fluttering in his stomach and continued. 

“One of the things I like best about you is how fiercely independent you are. I know that you are more than capable of running the farm yourself, I’ve been _watching_ you do it, and you do it wonderfully. Honestly, Katherine you’re a natural. But my dear, there’s no shame in receiving help when you need it. And this is barely help in any case - it’s money that will be yours anyway in three weeks time. And money that I have every faith will return to our coffers quickly enough with your parents’ farm under the care of a scrupulous bailiff. Think of it as simply another bit of planning to do to enable us to start our wedded life as smoothly as possible.”

Her face had softened at his touch, but he could see a small part of her still had some reservations. He pressed on:

“My love, we are three weeks away from standing before our friends, neighbours and God himself and vowing to spend the rest of our lives doing what’s best for each other. Let me start as I mean to go on: by looking after my wife.”

Finally, the last trace of stubbornness drained away from her face, and Katherine relented, leaning her soft cheek into his touch and allowing her eyes to flutter closed for a moment before she gave her answer. “Yes. Yes alright.” William let out the breath he didn’t realise he had been holding, and he stroked his thumb gently across her cheekbone, smiling softly. “But, William, I mean to pay you back!”

He frowned and withdrew his hand, quickly saying “You don’t owe me any-”

“I do, and I _will_ pay this kindness back.” Before he could stop her or argue further, she had stretched on to her tiptoes and placed a soft, silencing kiss on his lips that sent that familiar fire to his fingers and toes. She lingered only a moment but it was long enough for William’s restraint to begin to crumble and, just as before, he found his hands settling around her waist and drawing her closer. He wanted to draw her in so closely that they blended into one person. But the instant she pulled away, he felt guilt wash over him. If this was what she had meant by paying him back then he certainly shouldn’t allow it. The very last thing he wanted was for her to feel as though she owed him anything, least of all physical displays of affection that he was extraordinarily ill-equipped to handle. He needed to get a grip on himself and stop getting so easily swept away by his feelings. William released her waist and she stepped backwards. He allowed her to take his hand, though words escaped him. He only stood there, silent and awkward as he tried to regain his footing and Katherine watched him flounder, a faint smile of amusement dancing around her lips. Eventually, he cleared his throat and managed to croak out “We should be getting back. Your mother will have made lunch.”

~

William’s anxieties around the impending wedding proved harder to ignore after the conversation about the bailiff. He had absolutely no difficulties with the practicalities, finding the ideal man to take over the running of the farm only a few miles away, and negotiating his services for a very reasonable price. 

But the price was exactly William’s concern. To be more precise, it was Katherine’s understanding of the price.

He had been wrong-footed by her comment about paying him back, paired with that kiss in the potato patch. All it had done was reinforce his concerns about her doing things out of a misplaced sense of obligation, and the incident had left him sitting up late that evening, feeling as guilty and anxious as he had after Bathsheba and Gabriel’s wedding.

Over the next while he found his anxieties surfacing more and more often, no matter how busy he kept himself. It didn’t help that Katherine did seem determined to be close to him, to give him the looks that he liked best, to be in some way touching him at all times. This made it increasingly difficult for him to stop his mind wandering to...less than chaste thoughts. It also served the double purpose of chipping away at his self-restraint and increasing his guilt over the disparity he perceived in their feelings for one another whenever he allowed himself to get too carried away. 

As the wedding drew nearer, his worries grew deeper. With a week to go, his anxiety had increased to the degree that he had come to find being in Katherine’s presence the most exquisite torture, as she was apt to take his hand without warning or kiss him out of nowhere, and he lived in constant terror of those moments that would take him apart and leave him aching for the strength of his desire that she should bestow her attentions on him out of love rather than duty. It was like a cruel play of his wildest fantasies, over and over.

More than once he had sat up most of the night turning everything over in his mind. A large part of him was sure that it was somehow unfair to allow her to go through with their wedding without telling her how he felt for her. He felt as though his love was an unfair burden to put on her, and would be trapping her in a situation that was very different to the one she had agreed to when he had proposed. 

On the other hand, he also suspected that she already had an idea that he felt more than friendly affection for her - after all, why would kisses be paying him back if she didn’t know he loved her? And he certainly did a very poor job of concealing his love, with terms of endearment falling from his lips far more often than he would like. 

But in that case, why was she still marrying him? Were the material benefits of the arrangement genuinely great enough to make it worth taking on the weight of his love? He couldn’t imagine they were, but perhaps Katherine thought so...Lord alone knew why…

The thought sat heavily with him, and for all his agonies and indecision, it refused to be shifted.

~

The last week of William’s bachelor life was to be spent entertaining Mary, Frederic, Emily and Miles, who arrived the Monday before the wedding (which would be on Saturday afternoon). Having the guests at Lower Farm was a much needed distraction from his brooding for William, and also a convenient excuse to spend a little less time around Katherine - getting the new bailiff settled in at King farm would keep her away most of that week - and gather his thoughts with a clearer head. Of course, Miles and Emmy were less than happy to be robbed of a favoured friend.

“But Uncle William, why can’t we go visit her at her farm? I want to see it!” Emmy protested over breakfast on Wednesday.

“Emmy, Miss King is very busy this week.” Frederic interjected firmly. “Now shush and eat your toast.”

“Yes, sorry Emmy but she’s very busy on the farm.” William agreed. The girl’s face fell. “She’ll be joining us for dinner tonight though, so you will see her before Saturday.” Emmy brightened up again. “And if you’d like, I’m sure she’d be more than happy to do some singing with you.”

“Can I sit on your knee and play the piano?”

He smiled warmly at her. “Of course, if you’d like.”

That settled the matter, and Emmy would talk of little else for the rest of the day.

Dinner that evening was a pleasant affair, with conversation and wine flowing freely. This was Katherine’s first time meeting William’s brother-in-law, and William had worried they might not get along too well, given how serious and reserved Frederic was. But he needn’t have worried, Katherine was in her element as usual. He watched her chat animatedly with Frederic about his business, and as often before, he envied her the ease with which she seemed to make friends in any situation. 

After dinner they retired to the drawing room, and Emmy insisted on Katherine singing with her. Of course, Uncle William’s services as pianist were demanded as per. A wonderful time was being had by all, and William’s anxieties seemed far away for the first time in a long time. As he was haphazardly picking his way through some of Emmy’s favourite songs, he happened to look up and see Katherine smiling fondly on his niece. His heart tightened almost painfully, and in his mind’s eye he glimpsed a future that was on the cusp of unfolding before him. Katherine a little older, smiling on a different child - one with high, rosy cheekbones like hers, and dark curly hair like his. His fingers stumbled over the keys and he stopped playing, to which Emmy loudly protested. Mary’s eyes were more keen

“Are you well, William?” she asked anxiously from across the room. “You look terribly pale all of a sudden.”

“Yes, yes, just need a spot of fresh air. Excuse me a minute.” he answered, rising and quickly making his way outside, where the late spring sunset still lingered a little over the western sky. He leaned against the wall of the house and took a few deep steadying breaths. What was wrong with him? Why was he reacting so strongly? This was what he wanted - had always wanted - to marry the woman he loved and build a future and a family with her. Then why did he all of a sudden feel as though the walls were closing in?

“William?” a woman’s voice next to him made him jump half out of his skin. He turned to see, not Katherine as he had expected, but Mary. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Of course it is, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because you look as though you’ve seen a ghost?”

He attempted a scoff but managed only a feeble chuckle. “No ghosts, Mary.”

“Well something is going on! Tell me, what is the matter William?”

“Honestly Mary it’s-”

“Don’t even think about saying that it’s nothing!” she cut him off sharply. “I know my own brother, and you’ve been out of sorts all evening.”

He did his best to sound incredulous. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been staring at Katherine like a lovesick puppy all evening when you think she can’t see you, but every time she touches you you shrink away as if you’re repulsed. Why?”

William felt the familiar weight return to his stomach. How could he even begin to express the anxieties he had been grappling with for the past month? Was there even any point in trying?

Mary was watching him wrestle with himself, and after a moment her face softened into an expression of gentle concern. She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “William?” A pause. “Walk with me?”

He nodded stiffly and Mary hooked her arm into her brother’s and led him down the driveway. She was silent as they walked, and William was grateful to her for giving him the space to gather his thoughts. After a few minutes, he finally managed to ask: “Am I doing the right thing?”

“The right thing?”

“By marrying Katherine.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well it’s just that I’ve been thinking...I can’t help but feel that I’m not very suitable for her. I’m too old, I’m too serious and as for appearance, well…”

“So _that’s_ why you’ve been acting so strange. Cold feet?”

“Not cold feet exactly - I do want to marry her. Very much. To be perfectly honest Mary, I’m hopelessly in love with her.” It was the first time he had spoken the words out loud to anyone, and his stomach jolted unpleasantly when he did, though he did his best to ignore it and continue. “But is that fair to her? Shouldn’t she be with someone her own age, someone better suited to her lively disposition? Why would she want to marry a serious, middle-aged man like me?”

“Do you doubt that she wants to marry you?” Mary asked incredulously.

“Well...no not exactly. She agreed to the proposal readily enough, and she does work hard to make things work between us. But that doesn’t mean the arrangement is fair.”

Mary hesitated. “Don’t you think...that perhaps that’s Katherine’s decision to make?”

William had no reply for this. Mary pressed on.

“I only mean that...she knows you William. Every step of the way she’s gone into this engagement with her eyes open. And while, yes she is quite a few years younger than you, she’s hardly a doe-eyed young maid. She’s twenty-six years old and - as you say yourself frequently enough - wiser than most people twice her age.”

“That’s true enough.” he conceded. They reached the end of the driveway and turned back towards the house.

“So she can be trusted to decide for herself who she wants to marry?”

William was silent for a moment, looking for any hole he could pick in Mary’s argument, but it proved watertight to him.

“I suppose she can.” he conceded eventually, with a weak smile of some relief. Mary smiled back and squeezed his arm affectionately.

“There we are. You know William, I understand it’s hard to break the habits of a lifetime, but perhaps, at the age of forty, it might be time to retire from being a dolt and try being happy instead.”


	12. Holy Matrimony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of Katherine and Boldwood's wedding is here. Will they both be able to master their nerves?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with this story for so long! This chapter takes us pretty much up to where 'You Make Me Bold' started, so initially I had planned to leave Tread Softly with it. However, it seemed a bit of an unsatisfying ending, since much of the angst resolution was in that fic. As such, I've decided to give you an edited version of the fic that inspired it all for chapter 13! If smut is not your thing, I don't think its absolutely essential to be able to enjoy and understand the rest of Tread Softly, it just rounds the story off!
> 
> Again, so many thanks for reading this labour of love for Mr Boldwood <3

The morning of the wedding of Mr William Boldwood and Miss Katherine King dawned, and both parties were awake to see it.

Katherine had been herded to bed by her mother when the clock had scarcely chimed nine, because Mrs King could take no more of her daughter’s nervous knee-bouncing in the sitting room. 

“That is _it_ , Katherine. Bed. Now.”

“What?”

“Go to bed. You’re making the floorboards shake and setting my own poor nerves fluttery!”

“I’m not doing it on purpose!”

“All the more reason to go to bed. Come on, you have a big day tomorrow and you need your beauty sleep.” 

Katherine rather resented that last comment, but allowed herself to be shooed upstairs, where her mother insisted on putting her hair in curlers for her before ordering her to sleep.

“I’m just going to look in on father for a minute before I do.” Katherine answered hastily, ducking past her mother before she could face yet another imposition. She crossed the hall and entered her father’s bedroom, where he was sitting up in an armchair with a book in his lap, held open by his good hand. He was making a steady recovery, and had recently graduated from sitting up in bed propped up by pillows to sitting unsupported in an armchair, though he had a pronounced lean to his left. Now that this milestone had been reached, Dr. Thomas had agreed that he thought it would be fine for Mr. King to attend the wedding in his wheelchair - though on the strict condition that he not get over-excited. Of course, Mr King fully intended to ignore that condition for the wedding of his only daughter.

“Good evening father, how are you feeling?” she asked, sitting opposite him at the foot of the bed. 

“I...I’m...w-w-w-well.” he stammered. W’s were still hard for him to pronounce, so of course the stubborn man insisted on working them into his speech as often as he could.

“That’s good! What are you reading?” she asked, pointing to the book in his lap.

“H-hist...historia...plantarum.” he answered.

“Ah, of course. Interesting?”

“Very.”

Katherine smiled fondly on her father. She was so relieved that he was still with them at all, she couldn’t have imagined a month ago that he would be well enough to attend her wedding in person, but she was incredibly thankful that he would be.

“I just popped in to say goodnight,” She said, “and to check if you needed anything.”

“A k-kiss good...goodnight from m-my...girl...w-w-would be lovely.” he replied.

Katherine giggled, and crossed to him, bending to kiss him on the cheek, which made him smile lopsidedly. Katherine thought it was one of the most pleasing smiles she had ever seen him wear.

“Goodnight Father. Get your beauty sleep, you need to look your best tomorrow.” she teased.

“Goodnight.”

Katherine returned to her own room to find her mother mercifully gone, and revelled in a moment alone. Such moments had been precious and scarce the last month, and she suspected they would continue to be so once she was married, though Katherine found very little in her that objected to that prospect. Nevertheless, as she climbed into her own bed for what would likely be the last time, she thought there was a certain pleasure to be had in these nighttime moments of silence and solitude. Perhaps she would miss them once she was sharing Mr Boldwood’s bed?

Then again, perhaps not.

And with that thought, Katherine knew she would be doing very little sleeping that night.

~

William had known that this would happen the night before the wedding.

He lay awake in his four-poster bed listening to the clock chime one on the landing. His curtains were open a sliver and a narrow beam of moonlight illuminated the room. The sonorous chimes of the grandfather clock seemed amplified in the deafening silence of the house, though perhaps that was simply a trick played by his frayed nerves. 

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling in the gloom. He had been in bed for over an hour and, if anything, he felt less sleepy than he had when he had gotten into it. His thoughts had been racing all evening.

Mary’s words on Wednesday had genuinely comforted him at the time, and helped to ease his anxieties. In fact, they had been so effective that he had taken to repeating them to himself like a mantra whenever his doubts would resurface.

“That’s Katherine’s decision to make.”

“She can be trusted to decide for herself who she wants to marry.”

“Try being happy instead.”

And they had certainly made some difference to his general state of mind. Through the calming power of Mary’s words, William had begun to be able to perceive signs of genuine affection towards him in Katherine. He had even allowed himself to begin to believe that one day, if he was careful, kind, and patient, she might return his love. But tonight, his anxieties were back in full force, and he was doing his best to battle them, though such battles weren’t conducive to getting a good night’s sleep.

“She should be marrying someone her own age.”

_“That’s Katherine’s decision to make.”_

“I’m not the right man for her.”

_“She can be trusted to decide for herself who she wants to marry.”_

“I love her, of course, but I’m nervous about getting married.”

_“Try being happy instead.”_

Around and around his thoughts went, and he clung to Mary’s words of reassurance when he could find none for himself. Though the clock seemed to tick violently, he did eventually fall into a fitful doze, waking early when the gap in his curtains showed the first light of day bleeding into the dark sky, heralding his last morning as a bachelor. He rose reluctantly and went to draw himself a bath.

~

William’s nerves were much settled by the return of daytime and activity that morning, and he found that anxiety had given way to anticipation (though that was rather like trading one set of unsteady nerves for another). He planned to set off for the church after lunch, the wedding being set for two o’clock. Mary and Emmy - as bridesmaid and flower girl - had gone to Katherine’s house early that morning to help her prepare, and so he, Miles and Frederic had a very light lunch (of which William partook very little), before he changed into his freshly pressed suit and carefully combed his hair and beard to make them as neat as he could. He had decided to forego the usual white waistcoat worn by grooms in favour of his favourite brocade waistcoat (to honour the memory of their first meeting) with his suit and tails, and, after carefully examining every detail of his appearance in several mirrors, he finally arranged a rose from his own garden into his buttonhole as the finishing touch.

It was a warm day for spring, and William decided that walking to the church would do him good. In any case, the carriage had been sent to Katherine’s to take her to the ceremony, and he hoped some fresh air and exercise would help to settle the last of his nerves. Frederic had declined the invitation to join for the walk - deciding that he and Miles would go in the dog-cart - and in all honesty, William was very grateful for the solitude. He set off in plenty of time, and the weather was so fine that he quickly had to shed his hat and tailcoat, and carry them over his arm as he took the road into the village.

He arrived at the church at twenty to two, and was met at the gate by Gabriel Oak, who had (much to William’s genuine delight) agreed to serve as his Best Man. The men greeted each other with a warm handshake, Boldwood clasping Oak’s hand in both his own.

“Thank you for doing this, Gabriel. I’m very glad to have you beside me today.”

“Don’t be silly Mr Boldwood, it’s a privilege. How are you feeling?”

He released Gabriel’s hand and ran his own hand across his beard. “A little nervous to be completely honest. But happy. Very happy indeed.”

Gabriel smiled. “That sounds as it should be. Come on, we’d better head inside.”

~

“Emily! Sit down before you make yourself dizzy!” Mary said sternly, for the third time, to Emmy, who was spinning in circles so she could watch her flower girl's dress fly out around her. The little girl looked sheepish but finally did as she was told, flopping onto the rocking chair in Katherine’s room. Mary returned her attention to Katherine’s hair, which she was in the process of pinning up and threading through with flowers. 

“What time is it now?” Katherine asked, also for far from the first time that day.

“Don’t worry Katherine, we have plenty of time.” Mary answered, laying both hands on Katherine’s lace-covered shoulders. Katherine relaxed marginally, though she continued to fidget with her hands and feet until her hair was done and the veil set firmly in place.

“There you are.” Mary said, drawing her to her feet and standing her in front of the mirror. “Katherine, you look radiant.”

Katherine beamed at Mary's reflection. “Do you really think so? Do you think he’ll like it?”

“Katherine, William would like a potato sack if it had _you_ in it. Though rest assured, you look a great deal prettier than a sack of potatoes.”

Katherine giggled. On the landing outside, the clock struck one, and Mrs. King’s voice came from the foot of the stairs:

“Will you three hurry up?! We only have half an hour until we need to be in the carriage, and we need to sort these bouquets!”

Mary rolled her eyes dramatically at Katherine, but followed the action with a smile. “We had better do as she says or we’ll all be grounded and she’ll be going to the wedding alone.” she said, with a wink. “I’ll deal with the flowers, you just have a few moments to yourself.” Mary said, leaving the bedroom with Emmy, reluctantly, in tow.

Katherine sat on the edge of her bed and examined her reflection in the mirror. How odd it seemed to her, to be looking at herself in a white dress and veil. She could scarcely believe that the day had come at last, despite the challenges of the last month. In less than two hours, she would be Mrs Katherine Boldwood. And then this evening, the arguably sweeter thought, was that she and William would spend their first night together. As had often happened over the last couple of months, Katherine’s mind seemed to meander of its own accord to speculation over what that night would be like. Would it be awkward? Would she know what to do? And more intriguingly - what would _he_ be like? She suspected, from what she knew of his personality, that he would be cautious and gentle. But then again, she was aware that he probably had a lot more experience than she did in this area. Perhaps he would be totally different from what she expected. Perhaps he would be confident - eager even?

Katherine looked up from her clasped hands and saw in her reflection that her cheeks were lit by a deep flush. She took a slow breath and exhaled, trying to clear the flush from her cheeks. At that moment, her mother’s voice rang up the stairs again. 

“Katherine! Katherine what on earth can you still have to do? Get a _move_ on will you?” She got to her feet with a sigh, fanning her still slightly flushed face before heading downstairs.

A little less than an hour later, Katherine, the Kings, Mary and Emmy arrived at the church. Frederic was waiting by the gate to help get Mr King safely out of the carriage and into his wheelchair so that he could accompany his daughter down the aisle - apoplexy be damned. This managed without too much difficulty, the bridal party approached the church, Katherine herself pushing her father in his chair. 

~

The priest asked the congregation to please stand as the organ struck up a stately march. William felt a jolt of anticipation, and turned just as the doors of the church were swung wide to see his bride at last. 

His breath caught in his chest at the first glimpse of her; she was the most wonderful sight that William had ever seen. With the spring afternoon sunlight streaming from behind her, she seemed to radiate beauty down the aisle of the chapel as she crossed the threshold with her father in his chair in front of her. She wheeled him slowly down the aisle and, though it prevented her carrying her own bouquet, William was moved by the display of devotion and kindness in the simple gesture of choosing to push him herself rather than allowing someone else to do it. To have somehow ended up with a young woman of her extraordinary personality - to say nothing of her beauty - was something he had scarcely dared to hope six months earlier. His heart leapt in his chest as she drew equal with him before the priest, setting her father on her other side before coming to stand with William and casting him a shy smile from beneath her veil, which he returned with a slight blush.

“Dearly beloved…” the priest began…

~

“With this ring, I thee wed, and with it, I bestow upon thee all the treasures of my mind, heart, and hands.” he murmured, sliding the golden band onto her ring finger.

Miles presented the larger band to Katherine, who took it and repeated the same words as William, sliding the band onto his own finger. 

“With this ring, I thee wed, and with it, I bestow upon thee all the treasures of my mind, heart, and hands.”

She kept her deep brown eyes trained on his face as she spoke, and her gaze made him feel desperately exposed, though he found he could not look away. No, not for all the wealth in the world would he have looked away. 

“That being done,” began the priest with a smile, and William could feel his knee shaking, which he hoped no one else could see, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.” he said.

William swallowed the nerves in his throat, and raised Katherine’s veil at last. Her hair had been strewn through with apple blossom flowers, but her cheeks had a rosy glow that made the flowers look dim and dead in comparison. William had never led a kiss with Katherine before, and his stomach tightened as he bent and very softly pressed his lips against hers. The familiar warmth bloomed across his chest as he felt her lips parting ever so slightly and her breath mingling with his. Then she had pulled away, and he was blushing like a maiden as he watched her lick the lips that he had just kissed. He was dimly aware that the congregation were applauding and the organ had struck up again, though he took notice of very little around them. All was Katherine to him as she took his arm and they processed out of the church together, and the bells rang gaily over Weatherbury. A few words of congratulation were exchanged with Gabriel, Mary, and Katherine’s parents (and Miles and Emmy of course), before the newlyweds were herded into the waiting carriage to be taken back to Lower farm for the wedding party.

The carriage door swung shut on them and Katherine wasted no time in taking her new husband’s hand. She wanted to give some expression to the warm, bubbling feeling in her chest but could find no words for it, so she settled for kissing him again. The feeling of his beard ever so gently tickling the soft skin of her cheek while they kissed was one that she thought she would never tire of, and when they drew apart she was surprised to see the shine of tears in his eyes. 

“Are you alright William?”

“I’m just...Katherine I’m very happy.”

She squeezed his hand and smiled at him as the carriage juddered into motion. “Me too, my love.”

~

The wedding party was a small, intimate affair held in the main dining room of Lower Farm. So few people were invited that they managed to fit all the guests around Mr Boldwood’s long dining table - though perhaps that said more about the size of the table than the guest list.

The atmosphere was relaxed and genial as the first course was served, and William chatted comfortably with Mr King and Gabriel Oak. Katherine was talking to Mary on his right, and it pleased him, as it always had, to see how well they liked each other. William wasn’t always the best judge, but he knew he could always trust his sister’s opinions of people; the Mary seal of approval was the highest accolade as far as he was concerned.

As the first course was cleared away, his attention was recaptured by Katherine.

“More wine, my love?” she asked, picking up the bottle.

“Oh, go on then. Thank you.” he answered, “Though, after the last time we drank together at a wedding, perhaps I ought to be careful.” he chuckled.

She laughed in return as she refilled their glasses. “I was under the impression you rather enjoyed that night.” she said, placing the bottle back down and laying her hand over his on the table.

Was she flirting with him? He was sure this was flirting. His stomach clenched with a thrill at the thought. He gathered all his courage to not ruin it.

“Well, yes perhaps I did.” he answered with a wry smile. “But all the same, one might want to be a little more coherent on one’s own wedding night...”

Katherine leaned in closer to him so that she would not be overheard, and his pulse began to race.

“I would certainly hope so.” she murmured, drawing her index finger across the back of his hand, and setting his nerves on fire. His thoughts were utterly derailed by the small action, but he was saved from having to reply by the arrival of the next course. As they returned to their meals though, he was sure from the expression on her face that Katherine had noticed his blush and caused it deliberately.

The evening wore on, and the subsequent courses of the meal passed in a similar fashion - conversation with family old and new interspersed with exchanges with Katherine that made him forget that there were other people at the table. His thoughts turned more and more to what might happen once the guests had departed, and he began to feel a weight of expectation that sat heavily in his stomach. The cake was cut and handed out, the late evening twilight fell and in small groups the guests made their excuses to leave - first the Kings, then the Oaks, and finally Mary, Frederic and the children.

“Mary are you sure you want to stay in an inn? There’s plenty of space, and you wouldn’t be in the way here at all.” William asked his sister as she gathered her belongings. Katherine was saying goodnight to her new niece, nephew, and brother-in-law.

“Absolutely certain William. You can’t have a proper wedding night with your sister and her family hanging around.” she said, a knowing look in her eye. “We’ll see you both tomorrow. Just...enjoy yourselves.”

William’s stomach lurched at her implications, and he found himself, much to his surprise, blurting out: “But...Mary it feels like taking advantage.”

Mary looked confused and taken aback, and she moved a couple of steps away with her brother so they wouldn't be overheard. “Taking advantage? William, how on earth is it taking advantage? You’re married for goodness sake!”

“Because she doesn’t feel for me what I feel for her.”

Mary's expression cycled through confusion, to understanding and finally frustration. She took a deep breath before answering. “William. That girl adores you. It is obvious to everyone - except you, apparently. If you love her too, then really what is the problem? Where is the advantage being taken? Stop. Being. A. Dolt.” And without giving him time to argue, she turned and began to herd her family out of the door, waving farewell to Mr and Mrs Boldwood as they left.

With the last of the guests waved off and the door shut behind them, William and Katherine were left alone. It should have been a moment of bliss, but William’s heart raced and he was desperately nervous. Far from relieving his nerves, Mary’s telling-off had only made him feel more self-conscious, and a little shell-shocked. Ridiculously, he found himself wishing that his sister had stayed and given him an excuse to forestall this moment a little longer. But here they were, standing behind his front door in silence, both of them too shy to take another step towards the other.

It was Katherine who eventually crossed the gap first. She stepped towards William and wrapped her arms around him and, in a gesture of disarming intimacy, laid her head against his chest. He was caught off guard for a second, but wrapped his arms around her in return and lowered his cheek to rest gently on the top of her head. They stood in this silent embrace for a long moment, William feeling his racing heart slowly settle as he tried to take in the idea that he was embracing his _wife_. He was married. He could embrace her all he wanted for the rest of his life. 

Eventually, he drew back, though as he released her, he immediately missed the warmth of her body. He settled for taking her hand, though it wasn’t nearly enough.

“Well, Mrs Boldwood,” he began with a nervous smile “I suppose it’s high time you got a proper tour of your house.” He led her up the stairs and around the parts of the house that she had never seen before - the library, the bathrooms and the bedrooms - until eventually, they came to a door at the end of the landing. William paused for a moment outside it, nerves washing over him again. He took a deep breath, before opening the door and stepping inside, drawing Katherine by the hand behind him.

The bedroom was large and lavishly furnished, with an ornate vanity in front of a window that looked out on the herb and rose gardens, and the woods behind them. The focus of the room was a large four-poster bed, decked in silver and blue coverings to match its curtains. 

Katherine gasped as she took it in, and William flushed, gratified. He had put a lot of effort into this room, hand-picking the furniture and decorations weeks ago to ensure all would be perfect for his wife.

Katherine stepped further into the room and released William’s hand, crossing to the vanity where there was a none-too-small pile of carefully wrapped boxes. 

“I thought our wedding presents were being kept in the drawing room?” she asked, puzzled. 

“Most of them.” he answered, watching her carefully as she picked one up and read the tag. Though he couldn’t read it from where he stood, he knew it said “Mrs Katherine Boldwood”

“And why are they only addressed to me?”

“Because they’re yours. In fact, all of this is.”

Understanding dawned on her face, quickly giving way to gratitude. She laid down the box and crossed back to William, kissing him on the cheek. 

“Thank you. It's too much William, but thank you.” she said simply, remaining mere inches from him as she took his hand again. “You know…” she said, a spark of mischief kindling in her eyes, “I am a little disappointed that we had no dancing at our wedding party.”

William deflated a little. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I wish you had said, we could have had a bigger party, I could have hired some musicians?”

“It doesn’t matter.” she answered, smiling and laying a hand on his chest. He knew the gesture was meant to soothe him but it only reminded him of the nerves in his stomach. “We could still dance...now?”

William frowned, confused. “But...we haven’t any music.”

“Perhaps we don’t need music.” she murmured, gently placing his right hand on her waist and taking his left hand in hers. She began to gently sway them both, in no particular rhythm or direction. His nerves went into overdrive as he saw what she was getting at. Suddenly his collar felt too tight, his clothes scratchy, his shoes ill-fitting. He was suddenly very aware again of all the differences between them - of age and station and temperament. He didn’t know where to look, and felt fear beginning to bubble up in his chest. Katherine seemed not to notice his discomfort, as she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips firmly against his, daring to nudge them apart slightly with her own. This did nothing to calm him, rather feeding the panic, though of course his body responded predictably enough all the same, adding mortifying embarrassment to his fear. Abruptly, he broke the kiss and stepped backwards out of her embrace.

“You’ve had a long day.” he said quickly, feeling his face flushed and hoping she wouldn’t notice his state. “I’ll-I’ll let you get some rest.” She looked confused and a little hurt, and so, after a moment’s hesitation, he bent and kissed her on the forehead in the hope that she would understand this was no personal slight. Then he turned and practically fled to his own bedroom, leaving the door open and Katherine staring after him.

She watched him go and stood, perplexed, for a while in the centre of the room. Eventually she moved to close the door then drifted to sit on the bed. What had gotten into him? On their wedding night? In all her speculating about how things might go, this had never occurred to her. 

Though she felt terribly alone and disappointed, as she stripped off her wedding dress and changed into her nightgown, she was hatching the beginnings of a plan. She had reason enough to hope, from the way he looked at her, that lack of interest was not the problem. The more she thought about it, the more obvious it seemed that William was nervous, and perhaps a little shy. He could do with some patience and a little gentle coaxing. 

Well, Katherine could do patience and gentle coaxing. Tomorrow night, if things were still the same, she would take matters into her own hands.


	13. You Make Me Bold(er)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised last chapter, this is just an edited version of You Make Me Bold. I was originally very reluctant to touch the original, but obviously the characters and their relationship developed - as they should - as I was telling this story, and William and Katherine were a little different from. How they started out. After a bit of hand-wringing, I was convinced that it would be no disrespect to the OG to tweak it a bit to reflect that. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> And thank you.

William was lying in a doze around the hour of midnight when he fancied he heard the door to his bedroom open and close again. He sat up in his four-poster bed and squinted into the gloom. Footsteps crept across the room towards him, and he felt the edge of the bed dip as if a person sat on it.

“Who’s there?” he whispered to the darkness.

“It’s me.” came the reply. He recognised the voice of his new wife and released the breath he had been holding. 

“Oh, Katherine! My, you frightened me.” He said with a nervous chuckle. He felt her weight shift from the edge of the bed and a moment later the lamp on the end table sputtered into life and illuminated her form. She wore only her nightgown and her hair hung free over her shoulders in soft waves. She was so beautiful, he thought with a pang. For far from the first time in the past couple of days, he felt a pang of regret about trapping her in a marriage to him. He was too old, too serious, too boring; he had nothing to offer her but trinkets and the trappings of social status. And yet he loved her so dearly that he couldn't find it in himself to fully repent the choice.

“Is everything all right, my dear?” he asked, drawing the plush bed coverings further up his chest as she sat back down beside him. “I hope everything about your room is to your liking?”

“Oh of course William, it’s all charming! You’ve made me feel so welcome, darling.” She answered, with an easy smile. His chest tightened at the endearment that fell so easily from her lips. He wanted so terribly to believe that she meant it. Mary had said it to him too, he ought to accept it. Of course, he knew that she respected him. Everyone in Weatherbury respected him, but Bathsheba had taught him that there was a wide gulf to be bridged between respect and desire. He tentatively returned her smile.

“Then what prompts such a late visit?” he asked, realising a beat later that the question might have sounded a little inhospitable. “Not that I -” he began to correct himself, but pulled up short again. He didn’t want her to feel obliged to stay either.

“Does a woman need a reason to visit her husband?” Katherine replied, a hint of playfulness in her voice.

“No, of-of course not.” He replied, dropping his gaze to the covers and fidgeting with a slightly threadbare section of embroidery. “Just…” he glanced back up at her, “I was just curious.” He answered weakly.

Katherine smiled tenderly at him, and took one of his hands in hers. She took a deep steadying breath.

“William, my dear,” she began. “I understand that a woman of my station could hardly have much to offer a man like yourself - no don’t interrupt me please -” For he had indeed opened his mouth to protest. “But I confess that I was bitterly disappointed when we parted for separate rooms last night. On our wedding night. To be perfectly honest William, it wasn’t quite what I had envisioned.” 

William flushed deeply. Of course she had been expecting romance. To be swept off her feet by a dashing, maybe even experienced, older man who knew how to please her. Well, older he may be, but he was certain that that was the only way in which she would not find him a disappointment. 

“And when we parted again tonight, I just didn’t think I could bear another night in that big, empty bed knowing that my husband slept alone in the next room.” William’s gaze was once again fixed on the covers, but he kept a hold of Katherine’s hand. Of course, he knew he couldn’t just not consummate their marriage, but he had hoped to delay the moment where she was disabused of her illusions as to his performance for as long as possible. However it seemed as if Katherine had other ideas.

“William?” He pulled his eyes up to meet hers again and saw that they were ablaze with a fierce determination and...something else perhaps? Something he struggled to name? “Do you love me?” She asked.

“What? Of course I do!” He answered quickly and honestly. He was surprised that she had to ask. He sat up a little taller in bed and addressed her directly, looking her straight in the eyes. “My dear Katherine, you amaze me daily with your strength, your wit, your goodness, and your kindness. I have such immense respect for you, and feel so lucky to be able to call you my wife at last.” His voice bore the marks of sincerity, and he smiled with genuine warmth as he spoke.

Katherine looked gratified at his words, but still seemed to lack reassurance. “Thank you darling. That's wonderful to hear. But...do you desire me?”

“I-” He flushed again. “My dear Katherine, I-....you-....it’s not a matter of...”

“I see…”

“Yes.” he answered hoarsely. “Very much.”

Katherine’s eyebrows rose. 

Before he could object, she brought her lips to his. They had done this before of course, plenty of times, though it never seemed to be less intense for William. However, this time Katherine did not simply press their closed lips together. After a moment’s kiss that set William’s nerves aquiver, she let her lips part a little and nudged his own apart in the process. She released his hand and moved her own to his cheek, and Boldwood found his own hand mirroring the action to draw her close. 

His pulse quickened when she allowed the tip of her tongue to graze his bottom lip. He returned the action and the taste of her mouth at last made his head spin and set his skin ablaze. When she pulled away, his mouth tried to follow hers unconsciously and she smiled at him. She climbed fully onto the bed and crawled up William's body so that she was sitting on his lap, though the thick covers of his bed were still between them. She moved her mouth back over his, and William responded by boldly dragging his tongue along her own. He was pleasantly surprised to find that kissing Katherine like this was actually calming his worries somewhat. However, when Katherine’s hands dragged down his neck and onto his chest, he froze. After a moment, he pulled away, taking her wrists and gently moving her hands off him.

“Katherine, stop, you don’t have to…”

She sat back and frowned at him. “Don’t have to what?”

“You don’t have to pretend to want me like this. You owe me nothing, my love.” He patted her hand kindly as he returned it to her own lap.

“You think I don't want you like this?”

William gave a short laugh but there was no mirth in it. “How could you? I am fourteen years your senior and even in my prime I was hardly a prize. There is a reason I was still a bachelor, and it had little to do with piety.”

“I don’t believe for a second that nobody was ever interested, William.”

“I can assure you if anybody was, I never knew it.”

“Well I am.” 

He scoffed at that.

“Is that so hard to believe? That I might be interested in a well-bred, kind, handsome gentleman?”

Boldwood met her eyes but said nothing in reply.

Katherine reached out her hands again and placed one gently on each of his cheeks. “William. I married you. I love you. I want you. Please believe me. Let me show you.”

He felt a tightening deep inside at her words and, finally, managed to scrape together enough belief in them to nod his consent.

Katherine smiled and kissed him again, immediately moving her hands to their former place on his chest. He returned her kisses a little more nervously than before, but placed his hands tentatively on her waist and was rewarded with a small thrill when, instead of shrinking from his touch as he had half-expected, she leaned into it. He slowly began to relax into their embrace, and when she captured his lip lightly with her teeth he was embarrassed to hear a soft moan escape his mouth before he could stop it. 

Katherine smiled against him and slipped a hand under his pyjama shirt to feel the firmness of his shoulders. The other hand slid up his neck to tangle in his hair, as Katherine moved to kissing his jaw and throat. Another thought occurred to him suddenly. 

“Katherine I - I have a confession to make.”

She once again pulled back and looked him in the face. This time she seemed impatient, and a little amused.

“William, what could possibly be so important that it cannot wait until morning? Are you about to confess to some tawdry affair? A fling with a local farm girl?” She teased him, returning to kiss his neck “I don’t care William, I never expected to be your first.”

“Well err...quite the opposite actually. You, ahem…” He cleared his throat awkwardly and turned his gaze down to the quilt as Katherine sat back again. “I haven’t ever...well…” he fidgeted once more with the edge of the covers that still lay between them. “I’ve never _been with_ anyone...like this...before...” he trailed off awkwardly, blushing furiously. 

“You haven't…?” She asked, sounding genuinely taken aback. “Oh…I see...”

“I know by my age most men would have...indulged…” He stammered, still refusing to meet her eye. “But I wanted to wait for...for...the right person...for my wife...Only now that seems like foolishness since here I am with my wife and I can hardly look her in the eye. And she deserves to be loved and taken care of.” he said, frustration evident in his voice as he fidgeted with the embroidered covers.

“Oh William.” Katherine said tenderly, bringing her forehead to rest against his own. “So do you.”

She began to kiss his cheeks then, tracing the line at the edge of his beard and up his sideburns to kiss his temples. “You have such a handsome face, my darling husband.” She sat back and gently traced a finger down his straight, pointed nose. “Your nose is so noble.” William chuckled as she tapped the bulb of his nose. “And your eyes are so beautiful when you smile. There is such warmth in the lines that gather around their corners. I look forward to seeing them as often as I can in the years to come, my love.”

She ran her hands through his hair then. “Your hair is so thick, and so soft. And you have a lovely, well-kept beard. I know you must take excellent care of yourself, and it pays off.”

William didn’t quite know where to look or what to say as she ran through her compliments to him, but even he couldn’t miss the evident sincerity in her voice, and it pleased him.

Katherine picked up his left hand then, and lifting it to her mouth, she pressed her lips to his knuckles the way he had done to her own hand in greeting many times before.

“I adore your hands my love. They are strong hands, but so deft. They can tie a safe knot as easily as they write in beautiful cursive. You can't imagine how it used to thrill me to receive a note from you and imagine these hands penning it." She rolled back the sleeve of his pyjama jacket to his elbow and traced a finger up his forearm. “And your arms William. Lord, the thoughts I have about these arms.”

“About my...arms..?”

Katherine smiled. “Yes. Your arms. Have you not noticed how tightly I hold you when we walk together?”

“To be perfectly honest Katherine, most of the time I was rather distracted by your close proximity.” He answered with a soft chuckle. “Often enough I missed what you would say to me because I was trying not to trip over myself and bring us both tumbling to the ground.”

Katherine smiled warmly at him. Bringing her hands to the top button of his pyjama jacket, she paused. “May I?”

William hesitated for a moment, his fears of her rejection returning. But her kindness and patience so far had bolstered his confidence, and he nodded. He held her gaze as she undid his buttons, holding his breath without realising. When the last button had been opened, she dropped her gaze to his exposed chest and pressed a kiss to his sternum, and he exhaled slowly. She pressed her palms to his chest, then slid them firmly up his shoulders, pushing the jacket down his arms. William shrugged the garment off entirely and Katherine dropped it to the floor by the bed.

“Oh William my love, you are so beautiful.” She said simply as she peppered kisses on to his torso. “Would you lie down for me, and let me pull the covers away?”

At this he protested. “I don’t know that you want to do that. I’m...well…I-”

“I had rather hoped you would be by now, dear husband.” Katherine said teasingly. She nuzzled his soft chest hair with her nose and pressed a kiss to one of his nipples, causing him to shiver.

“Well...I suppose...if you don’t object…” He conceded tentatively. He shifted slowly down from his position leaning against the head of the bed until he was reclining with his head on the pillows, and Katherine gently pulled the covers to the bottom of the bed. He was clothed only in his pyjama trousers and, as he had tried to warn her, they were stretched tight across his crotch. She paid no attention for now to that part of his anatomy, instead lying next to him and running her hands along his arm, down his sides, across his stomach. She circled his navel with her fingers and he laughed, ticklish all of a sudden. When his laughter subsided she returned to kissing what seemed like every inch of bare skin she could find. She even, much to his surprise, licked a line from his navel to his sternum. He found his hand threading itself into her hair, and he pulled her up into a kiss. He no longer felt shy about tasting her mouth, and availed himself of it liberally for a moment, before pulling away.

“Katherine?”

“Yes, my love?”

“I do feel at a bit of a disadvantage being the only one in a state of undress.” he murmured. 

Katherine grinned mischievously at him. “Ah but I only have one garment on. In order for it to be fair, we would really have to be trading nakedness for nakedness.”

Boldwood flushed again at the thought, but agreed . “I...I suppose that is fair.”

“Well then,” Katherine said, swinging a leg over his belly so that she was straddling his waist, and her nightgown rode up around her thighs. She proffered the hem of her gown. “Would you like to do the honours?”

He ignored the proffered hem, instead opting to run his hands up the backs of her thighs, gathering the nightgown as he went. The soft smoothness of her skin astonished him, and when he reached her buttocks he allowed his hands to rest for a moment, enjoying how perfectly they fit together. Finally, he did take hold of the hem of her gown and pulled it up over her raised arms, letting it fall to the floor. His breath caught in his throat as her body was revealed, and he let his eyes roam hungrily from her flushed face, down to her rounded breasts, the soft swell of her stomach and hips, and the gentle curves of her bottom and thighs. 

“Lord above.” He whispered, bringing one hand to cup her breast while the other settled on her hip. 

Katherine beamed at his utterance, and bent over him to kiss him and run her hands through his curls again.

“Your turn now, William.” she whispered gently against his mouth.

He once again hesitated, the fear reawakening in his chest. Katherine didn’t seem to notice his hesitation, and slid down his body to hook her fingers into the waistband of his trousers. 

“Wait!” He said suddenly, taking her hands to stop her.

“What is it?”

“Katherine, are you....are you sure? Are you sure that you really want me? You’re not simply...fulfilling your spousal ‘duties’? Please, I couldn’t bear it if you did anything out of a misplaced sense of obligation.”

“William,” she began kindly, though sounding slightly exasperated “I would gladly run through the list of reasons why I desire you until the sun rises, and if that's what it will take for you to believe me, I will. But surely you're impatient to get on to other activities as well? Didn't you praise my strength, wit and kindness earlier? Do you think I would lie to you? Please, my love, try to relax and trust me." He still looked hesitant, so she continued." I love you so much, William Boldwood, and nothing that happens tonight could change that.”

“I love you too, Katherine.” he said. "Of course I do." He took a deep steadying breath. “Yes, all right. I’m ready.” 

She pressed a gentle kiss to his belly, and slowly pulled off and discarded his trousers so that they were, at last, naked together. William was surprised to find that he didn’t feel as uncomfortable as he had expected he would. In fact, in this scenario, nakedness felt almost more appropriate, since Katherine was naked with him. At this moment, they were equals, with no difference of rank or age to separate them.

Katherine ran her hands lovingly down his thighs, pressing a tender kiss to his right hip crease, before returning to lie beside her husband. 

He gathered her into an embrace, and they lay simply holding each other for a moment. William was enjoying the sensation of skin pressed against skin, and her heartbeat gently thrumming against his body while he ran a hand softly up and down her back and got used to the feeling of a naked woman in his arms. Soon though, his need became hard to ignore.

“What now?” He asked, surprised and pleased to hear a hint of playfulness in his own voice.

“What would you like to do now?”

He paused for a moment. While he may not have done this before, he wasn’t completely naive. He had overheard talk from labourers on the farm about the sorts of things they got up to with their village sweethearts, and more than one of those conversations had led to him having to excuse himself to deal with “business matters” upstairs. But it was one thing to think about things on one’s own, quite another to bring them up to one’s own wife.

Katherine noted his pause. “Why don’t you tell me what you like?”

“What I like?”

“Yes! What do you like to think about when you’re on your own? What kind of touch do you like best on your-”

“Katherine!”

She laughed at his embarrassment. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about William, everybody does it!”

That pulled him up short. “Everybody?” he asked cautiously. “Do...do you?”

“Of course!”

He was sure she would be able to hear the cogs turning in his brain. “What do you…” He cleared his throat nervously “What do _you_ think about?”

“All kinds of things.” she whispered, looking unflinchingly into his eyes. “Sometimes about your chest, and what it would feel like to rest my head on or kiss it." She ran her hand across his chest.   
"Sometimes I think about your arms, and what it would feel like to be carried by them, or be held by them." she ran a hand down his arm, and on to his hip, achingly close to where he wanted her touch. "Often, simply what you will feel like inside me.”

At that William thought he might well burst into flames right there on the bed. Instead, he kissed her firmly again, a futile attempt to quell the thirst that was growing inside him every second.

“Show me.” he murmured against her lips, surprising himself with the brazen request.

Katherine seemed unperturbed. She took her hand from where it had been resting on his hip and snaked it between her legs. Keeping her eyes locked on her husband, she began to touch herself. The sounds she made were obscene, and William quickly found he wasn’t content to only watch her face.

“I want to see all of you.” He said. He drew back to the foot of the bed for a better view as she rolled onto her back and spread her legs to allow him the full view he wanted. With one hand she massaged her breasts, rolling her nipples between the point of her finger and thumb. The other hand was buried in the curls between her legs, and William couldn’t make out in the low lamp light what she was doing with it. However he was enraptured with the expression on her face. He wished she could see herself in this moment - she was glorious. Without realising, his own hand went to his arousal and he began to stroke himself in time with her breaths. 

Katherine opened an eye and immediately pouted at him. “Now now William, that wasn’t the point of this. If you need something to do with your hands, come here.” She said, patting the space on the bed beside her. He blushed but scrambled eagerly to join her. Once he was settled, she gave him the hand that had been between her legs to kiss, which he did enthusiastically. He was even bold enough to lick her fingertips, getting another thrill of pleasure from tasting her arousal. She smiled to see him beginning to relax.

She pulled him into a deep kiss, and at the same time took his hand and guided it down to her folds. She guided his fingers over her clitoris, showing him how much pressure to apply and where. She showed him the right speed, the right way to move so that she made the little noises that he was quickly growing to love. Eventually, she guided his fingers lower and inside her, throwing a leg over his so that she could thrust onto them. He was amazed by the heat of her as he moved his fingers in time with the movement of his tongue in her mouth, but was dismayed to find that his beloved noises had stopped.

“Am I doing something wrong?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse.

“Not wrong, no. It’s just a little trickier this way.” She answered. “Try this sort of thing.” She dragged two fingers up and down his side, crooking them at the top of each stroke. He tried his best to emulate her, and he fancied her breath did catch a little. 

“Like this?”

“Yes, that's better.” She whispered, grinding down onto his fingers with another soft gasp. “Now don’t forget the good Lord gave you two hands.”

He chuckled into her mouth and tried to move his free hand to join the already occupied one, but with them lying on their sides facing each other, the angle was a bit tricky.

“Can we...rearrange ourselves?” he asked, a hint of awkwardness returning.

“Of course love.”

Katherine returned to her back, and William shifted back down the bed, settling himself this time on his stomach between her legs. He quickly replaced his fingers inside her as she placed her legs over his shoulders, then with his free hand he took one of hers and guided it back towards her clitoris with his own. She once again showed him how to pleasure her that way, and once he had gotten used to coordinating that with his new finger trick, Katherine withdrew her hand and fisted it instead in the bedsheets.

"Yes William, just there. Just like that. Yes my love, don't stop!" 

He was elated to hear her pleasure, and continued his ministrations, his excitement building as her breathing quickened and her moans rose in pitch and volume. 

He remembered then something that he had once heard one of the farm hands describe doing to one of the village girls in great detail, that had left him particularly urgently needing to relieve himself. Before he could lose his nerve, he glanced up at Katherine to make sure she was watching him, then lowered his mouth to join his hands. He wasn't at all sure how to do this, and he was certain he was being quite sloppy, but it seemed to do the trick for her all the same, because very shortly after, Katherine was crying out and clenching around his fingers. He continued to pleasure her through her climax until she stilled his hand. 

"Enough my love, I need a rest." she said softly, taking hold of his hair and gently tugging him up to lie beside her again, where she pulled him into another open-mouthed kiss. 

William couldn't believe that kissing could feel as good as it did now, naked, in Katherine's arms with her taste mingling between them. His shame had been burned away by the pleasure on her face as he touched her. He was wholly convinced that that, at least, she would not lie about. He pressed her close to his body, and became increasingly aware that he was in need of attention too as his hardness pressed between them. Katherine did not miss the fact, and nudged him gently to lie on his back. 

“William love, will you talk to me now about how to please you?”

His embarrassment was gone, and he didn’t hesitate to answer. “You simply being here pleases me, Katherine.” She opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off. “I know what you meant and I will answer you, I just need you to know that. You could never disappoint me.”

She kissed him gently on the end of his nose and he chuckled affectionately.

“Perhaps I could...show you how? Like you showed me?”

“That sounds like an excellent idea.” Katherine answered, placing a hand on his belly ready to be guided. Boldwood took it gently, a hint of nerves returning and his muscles tightening as he moved their hands onto his hard member, covering her dainty fingers with his own thicker ones. He held them still for a moment, getting used to the strangeness of someone else’s touch. Then he gently squeezed her hand and began to move. As she had, he showed her the kind of pressure he enjoyed, the way to twist her wrist just right, so that his breath caught in his throat and a low moan escaped him. He watched her face carefully for any sign that she was uncomfortable, but she seemed only fascinated. When she looked up and met his gaze, he saw hunger in her eyes and knew she was seeing it reflected in his too. 

“What do you think about, when you do this alone?” she asked, her voice low.

“Oh, all sorts. None of it suitable for a maid’s ears.” he answered softly.

She stretched her neck so her mouth was as close to his ear as it could be and whispered “What about a wife’s?”

At that he shuddered, and grasped the base of his cock tightly in their linked hands lest the night end too early. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, his composure slowly returning. “I...I think about this.” he confessed, his eyes still closed. “About your hands on me, or mine on you. I imagine your breasts sometimes, though reality far outstripped my imagination there.” He cocked a smile as he said this. “Once or twice I...no....” he stopped himself, but that only seemed to pique her interest more.

“Go on. Tell me.” She looked resolutely into his face and he glanced away.

“Your mouth. I think about your mouth on me.” a hint of shame returned and he blushed, but Katherine’s eyes showed only desire.

“Can I? Now?”

“You don’t have to do that, Katherine my dear, really.”

“I know I don't, but I want to. Can I?”

William swallowed nervously. He had put his mouth on her, and hadn’t even asked first. There was nothing wrong about this, but he was still hesitant. Katherine was pressing soft kisses to his chest as he considered it, and the unguarded love and care she was displaying eventually won out.

“Yes. All right.”

She looked up and beamed at him, and his heart leapt in response. What had he done to deserve such a wife? She released his cock from her grasp, moving both of her hands to stroke firmly across his chest and down his sides, calming his nerves as he took a deep, steadying breath. She continued to pepper kisses across his chest and down his stomach. When she reached his navel she dipped her tongue inside and his muscles tightened in response, but no laugh escaped him now. She made her way lower until he could feel her breath on him. She took him in hand again, pausing to look up and check in once more.

“All still well?” she asked, the tip of her tongue coming out to lick hungrily across her lower lip.

William could only nod, his voice seemingly abandoning him. Katherine smiled reassuringly and placed her free hand on his right hip, grounding him. She placed a ‘chaste’ kiss to the sensitive head of his cock that made him shudder from head to toe, then licked a flat line from base to tip. His hips jerked involuntarily as she did and he was grateful for her steadying hand on his hip. She drew her tongue along the length if him again and William groaned and covered his face with his hands, certain that he had died and gone to heaven. God, nothing he had imagined had ever come close to the reality of this. He felt raw, like everything he had hidden over the years, every emotion, every feeling, every nerve ending had been dragged into the open. He realised he was trembling and drawing in shaking, panting breaths as he drew his hands away from his eyes. He looked down at his wife in time to see her take the whole head into her mouth, drawing her lips tightly over him. 

“Oh God, Katherine I-” he said hoarsely, weaving his hand into her hair and gently pulling her off him. “I can’t wait any longer. I need to have you.”

“You have me, my love. All of me.” A low rumbling growl came from William, surprising him. He gently pulled her up so she was lying on top of him, then flipped them over quickly. Katherine let out a small nervous giggle of surprise which he quickly swallowed with his kiss, lowering himself onto his elbows and holding his body just above her. She wrapped her legs eagerly around his waist and pulled him flush against her, as he kissed and sucked her throat hungrily. He found himself hoping that she would bear marks in the morning. That she would have to wear high collars for weeks to cover them. Or, even more tantalising, that she would wear them proudly and openly. That all of Weatherbury - all of Dorset even - would know that she was his.

He kissed his way up to her ear and nibbled softly on the earlobe, drawing out one of his favourite sounds from his wife. “Are you ready, my love?” He whispered, using one hand to line himself up with her entrance. 

“Yes, yes William. Please.” She answered shakily.

He needed no further encouragement, and slid slowly inside her, taking his time, until they were fully joined. He rested his forehead against hers and breathed deeply as they both adjusted to the unfamiliar sensation. His curls were damp with sweat and stuck to his forehead, and Katherine’s skin was slick all over. 

William drew in one more deep breath before returning his lips to hers. He drew back a little, then sank his hips forward, and he and Katherine moaned in unison. He was pleasantly surprised to find that this too, felt natural and instinctive. Setting a relaxed pace at first, he paid careful attention to his wife, noting the ways he could move that made her gasp or groan. He found one particular angle that seemed to go down very well, and tried to stick to it, increasing his pace as he climbed towards his own release. It was approaching quickly, and he realised with dismay that he was going to finish before his wife. He tried to move a hand between their legs to pleasure her as he had earlier, but the angle was awkward, he had to twist his wrist strangely and his hand got in the way of his hips. Katherine gently took his wrist and moved his hand away and, kissing him softly, said “Love, please don’t worry about it, just enjoy yourself. Plenty of time for that later.” William huffed in frustration at himself but took her advice, picking up his pace as the pitch of his moans rose. A few thrusts later and he was spilling into her with a soft cry, his face buried in her shoulder.

They lay still joined for a few minutes as they caught their breath, before Boldwood drew out of her and rolled onto his back, drawing Katherine against his side. They were both sweaty and trembling, and he felt a deep weariness settle in his limbs as they lay together. “Well, that was…” he began, not knowing how he intended to finish.

“Heavenly?” Katherine supplied, smiling sweetly and sleepily at him.

“Heavenly.” he agreed.

With a soft kiss to her temple, he reached across to extinguish the lamp, then pulled the covers over them and drew his wife into his weary arms. In the darkness they lay together, caring little about the dampness of sweat in the bed or the stickiness between them. William tucked himself in along Katherine’s back and pressed soft kisses to the nape of her neck as they drifted off to sleep - first her and then him - and dreams of the life they would lead together unfurled like an unimagined landscape before them.

Fin.


End file.
